Just Missed the Train
by loveadubdub
Summary: He's not jealous. Kurt is Blaine's fiance. Of course they want to make up for lost time. But it's been two and a half months- they should have made up for all that time now. But whatever, he's not jealous. It's just irritating.
1. Chapter 1

**JUST MISSED THE TRAIN**

**Part I**

…

…

…

He's been in New York for two months, and so far, his success equals exactly nothing.

He hasn't booked a single modeling job, and he's only been to two meetings. He's starting to think that his agency sucks. He should have just stuck with Ms. Bitchette. Yeah, she's kind of crazy, but at least she could probably book him some damn jobs! And anyway, ten pounds isn't really that big of a deal. He's already lost four and a half just because he can't even afford to _eat _in this city.

He's really struggling. Like money isn't something he's been used to having in a long time, so he's more than able to deal with living the broke life. But this is crazy. He's working two jobs and still doesn't even have enough money to consistently cover his part of the bills. Nobody ever says anything. He's living in the loft with Kurt and Blaine and Rachel, and he's sleeping on a couch that Kurt swears is some kind of vintage something or other. Whatever, it's currently his bed. He puts in what he can, but it's never a full fourth. He just _can't. _Nobody mentions it, though, probably because they all know none of them would be able to afford it, either, if their parents weren't putting major monthly deposits into their bank accounts. Well, maybe Rachel would now, but she's the only one. Sam doesn't really have that luxury, though. Even if his parents could afford to give him a little money (they can't), he wouldn't take it because he would know they were sacrificing things for themselves or- worse- for his siblings. He could never take money from them because he'd constantly be worrying about what his little brother and sister _didn't _have because of him. He worries about them constantly anyway, even though his parents are mostly alright at the moment. Things are still super tight and kind of rough, but they're managing. If they weren't, he never would have gone back to Ohio, much less moved to New York.

There's a part of him that does feel guilty, though, at least a little bit. He knows he could have moved back to Kentucky after graduation and got a full-time job to help his family out. They could have used the extra income, no doubt. But Kentucky was never his home, and there was never anything there for him. He only stayed there a few months, but he never made any friends, and he just kind of has a lot of bad memories about it. It was a rough time for him, and he's pretty much always reminded of it every time he goes to visit his family for a few days. Plus, this is his chance. He needed to come to New York for _himself, _and even though it's pretty frustrating being here, he's not ready to give up yet. Plus, his parents would never let him give up. They weren't particularly jazzed at the thought of New York City at first, especially since he wasn't exactly going with a plan or heading to a college or anything. But they support him. They told him to go try, and his mom even told him that this was his shot and that if he didn't do it now, he was never going to do it. She was right. She worries about him a lot, but she always tells him how much faith she has in him and how proud she is, and he knows she means it. So he always thinks about that every time he starts feeling guilty or selfish for being here.

But it's hard. And it seems like it gets harder every day. Even beyond the money thing, this just isn't what he expected. He thought he was going to come to New York and live with his friends and be super successful and just be having the time of his life or something. But it's not like that at all really. He's sleeping on a couch that's too short for him and working two crappy jobs while his roommates come in and out from NYADA classes and show rehearsals and drink $8 coffees and laugh about a bunch of stuff he doesn't understand. It's not like they ever try to help him understand, either. They talk over his head all the time, and he knows he's never been like the smartest dude in the world or whatever, but he's not used to literally having no idea what a conversation's about 90 percent of the time. But all three of them just seem to talk in some foreign language or something, and it's really starting to bug him because he already feels like enough of an idiot without having it shoved in his face all the time.

He tries to hang out with Artie sometimes because he's the only one who doesn't constantly talk Broadway at him, but Artie's super busy being awesome in film school, and he hardly ever sees him. He'd really love it if his best friend could make a little bit of time for him, too, but so far that seems out of the question because Blaine's so far up Kurt's butt that he and Sam go whole days without talking to each other despite living in a one room apartment together. He's bitter about it, and even if he tries to pretend like he's not, he is. He gets that Kurt's his fiancé and that they spent a whole year apart and stuff so there's a bunch of lost time to make up for or whatever, but it's been two months. They should have made up for all that time already. And it doesn't help that Blaine just acts totally different when he's around Kurt, either.

Whatever. He knows he's just being an asshole. He should be happy for Blaine, not bitter that he apparently no longer has time for anything else besides Kurt. And he is happy. Somewhere anyway. He knows Blaine's happy, so that's what matters. He should just be a good friend and support him and not be secretly jealous or bitter or whatever it is that he's been feeling ever since they got here. That's the right thing to do at least.

He mostly just tries to stay busy as much as he can. It keeps him from thinking too much, and it keeps him from going crazy. His two jobs keep him super busy, and when he's not working, he's constantly at the gym or running because the last thing he needs is to get lazy and pudgy. The better his body is, the better his chances are of finally booking a modeling job.

But to be honest, he's almost given up hope.

…

Handling two jobs is pretty overwhelming sometimes. .

He works in the restaurant at this really super-expensive hotel in Midtown. It's always full of rich tourists and business people whose companies decide to set them up right in the middle of all the action. The restaurant itself is _way _overpriced, and even with a fifty percent employee discount, Sam still has to bring his lunch with him because there's no way he could afford even the cheapest thing on the menu. The good thing about it, though, is that when people tip correctly according to percentages, he makes pretty decent money. The bad thing is that he gets stiffed at least two or three times a day. Maybe it's just that it's a hotel or whatever and people just think it should be some kind of included service or something, or maybe it's just that rich people are assholes. He's pretty sure it's the second one, especially since the ones who don't tip him are always the ones who order him around like some kind of man servant, refuse to make eye contact, and talk to him like he's something they just scraped off their shoe.

The job itself sucks because he hates having to be nice to people like that. He can't do anything, though, or even complain because they'd fire him in a heartbeat. He doesn't mean anything to the hotel, and that's kind of scary because he always feels like he has to walk on eggshells. He needs this job- like actually _needs _it- so he has to be careful. And being careful means he has to put up with whatever bullshit they throw at him or however awful the guests are. So he just learns to bite his tongue and take it because he has no other choice.

His other job is much better. It's at this little comic shop, so he gets to read a bunch for free, and it's super laid back and chill. It's not one of those huge megastores, though, with a bunch of cool merchandise and collectibles, but it's still pretty cool. It's never very busy, so he has a lot of downtime where he can catch up with all the series he likes and start new ones, too.

It's kind of a dream job actually, so he really shouldn't be surprised when it all goes to shit.

He gets to work one day, and his boss is there looking kind of nervous and upset. Sam knows something's up as soon as he walks in the door, and he's pretty thankful that Nick doesn't beat around the bush or whatever. He just comes out and tells him. The store isn't turning much of a profit, and they can't afford to keep him on. There are only five employees total, and since he's the newest, they've got to let him go.

Last one in, first one out.

It hits him in the gut for a whole lot of reasons, not the least of which is the déjà vu that overwhelms him when he hears that totally cliché excuse for letting people go. That stupid unofficial rule ruined his whole fucking life once, and it immediately feels like it's going to ruin it all over. Obviously it won't actually ruin his life this time because he still has another job, and he doesn't have a house that can be foreclosed on. At least he doesn't have a wife and three kids to worry about like his dad did when he got fed the same excuse a few years ago. But still. Damn, this sucks.

Nick tells him they'll give him two weeks pay but that that's all they can really afford, especially since he's only been there a couple of months. He promises to give an awesome reference if he needs it for future jobs, but it's all a bunch of sugar-coating for something that sucks all the way around.

He works out the rest of his shift and then finally goes home around 8. He feels like crap the whole way back to the loft. The train ride seems to take an extra long time, and he somehow picks a car that literally smells like some mix of cat litter and vomit. He just tries to hold his breath and keep his head down the whole time, and when it finally gets to his stop, he hurries out as quickly as possible and practically runs toward the fresh air. When he makes it outside, though, he remembers way too quickly that he lives in Bushwick, and the fresh air kind of smells exact like the kitty litter and puke subway car.

By the time he makes it up to the loft, he really just wants to lay down and go to sleep, but apparently his roommates have different ideas because they're all up watching some movie he doesn't recognize on Netflix. It's kind of hard to go to sleep when there are three butts sitting on your bed, so he just tries not to be as pissed off as he really feels when he sits down in the chair by the coffee table and glances at the TV to try to figure out what the hell they're watching. It looks like something about the 50s or something, so he has no clue.

"How was work?"

It's Rachel who asks, and she doesn't actually care- she's just making small talk. His automatic response is to say it was fine, but then he remembers that it wasn't fine at all.

"I got fired."

"What?!" Everyone looks at him then, and Kurt grabs the remote to pause the movie while they all wait for him to elaborate.

"Apparently they can't afford all their employees, and since I'm the newest, I'm the one who gets to leave."

"Oh, my god, Sam. That's really terrible!" Blaine's looking at him all sympathetic, and Sam's glad he's sitting down because he feels a totally uncharacteristic urge to punch his best friend for no real good reason.

He doesn't, of course. He just ignores the sudden, totally unfounded rage that's apparently inside of him because it's really dumb and makes no sense. Instead, he just nods. "Yeah. It sucks."

"It's the comic book store, right?"

Well, obviously, considering the fact that he's in jeans and a button up. If he'd just come from the hotel, he'd be in that ugly super pretentious uniform they make them wear. But he just nods. "Yeah. They're giving me two weeks of pay."

"Well, that's good at least." Blaine actually sounds like he's asking a question, not making a statement, but whatever. It's better than nothing, but it's not like a two week paycheck is going to make much of a difference anywhere out of the next, well, two weeks.

"I need a new job."

"You'll find something." This time it's Kurt who pops in, and Sam kind of wants to punch him, too. He doesn't know where all the anger's coming from, but it might be easier to take so-called advice from someone who wasn't working ten hours a week _literally _so they could afford a weekly facial and deep moisturizing. It doesn't help when he adds, "It's not like they pay you that much anyway."

"Yeah, well, it's kind of the only way I can, you know, _eat, _so." He gets up then, before he actually gets super pissed off and says something really hateful. All three of them are looking at him with different expressions, but nobody says anything else. "I'm going to take a shower."

And he leaves them all there with their movie, probably all wondering why the hell he's so upset about a job that's not all that impressive anyway.

And that kind of just pisses him off even more.

…

He gets over it, and by the next day, he's out looking for a new job with a newfound sense of determination. It's kind of easy to be that determined when finding a new job ASAP is an actual necessity, though, so he doesn't congratulate himself too much on it.

He goes to the hotel first and basically grovels to his manager, but it doesn't work. If he takes on anymore hours, he'll be considered full-time, and the hotel won't hire people full-time unless absolutely necessary because they don't want to pay benefits and a bunch of other crap that Sam doesn't really hear or care about. All he hears is that he can't get anymore out of them than he's already getting, so he grabs a print out of places that are hiring and starts hitting them up.

It's not like he's qualified to do too much of anything. He has a high school diploma and barely even got that. He's pretty much only able to do things like work a cash register or wait tables, so he goes to a ton of stores and restaurants that are allegedly hiring and fills out like fifteen applications. No one talks to him, though. They all just say they'll "be in touch," which probably means they'll throw his application into a pile with a hundred others and probably never make it to him.

He's back in Brooklyn wandering around aimlessly just looking into places and asking if they're hiring when Blaine texts him and asks what he's doing and if he wants to get dinner. He almost texts back and says no, but then he decides to not be a dick and says okay. They meet up at this restaurant that's just a few blocks from the loft- it's one of the cheaper places around, so that's definitely a good thing.

Blaine looks tired, and Sam asks him what's up after they sit down and order their food. They come here enough to know right away what they want, so it's not like they have to waste a bunch of time reading a menu or anything.

"I think I just suck at being a NYADA student." Blaine looks totally put out by whatever's going on in his head, and Sam can tell he's upset.

"Why would you think that?"

"Because! All my teachers hate me, like _everybody _is more talented than me, and I just… It's like I can't do anything right there."

Sam has a hard time wrapping his head around that, mostly because Blaine is Blaine, and for as long as he's known him, he hasn't really had much trouble at anything. He tends to get whatever he wants and be the best at it, so hearing him right now is pretty weird and uncharacteristic.

"You're probably overreacting…"

Blaine looks annoyed, though, and Sam realizes maybe he _is _being kind of dismissive. "I'm not overreacting. I don't even know what the hell I'm doing at that school."

"You're there because that's your dream and because you deserve to be there." It just comes naturally because it's the truth.

"I think I want to quit."

"What?" Sam just shakes his head. "Don't be dumb, dude. You can't quit."

"I hate it. I feel like such a failure, and I Just want to do something I'm actually good at."

"You're good at everything!" Sam seriously can't believe he's even having this conversation. "Just because some teachers are assholes doesn't mean anything. Weren't they mean to Rachel, too? And now look at her."

"Rachel's Rachel."

Sam can't even play dumb on that one because he knows what Blaine means, and it's true. Rachel is Rachel. She's a special case or something- maybe she always has been. Still. "Look, you're better than anyone else at that school. I'm _sure. _Just give it a little time."

Blaine doesn't look totally convinced, and he immediately starts squeezing lemon into his water the second the server sets it down. "I'm not better than anyone," and he almost mutters it. "Trust me."

Sam doesn't believe that. Not for a second. But he's a little worried because he's not sure where the confident, self-assured Blaine of the past has gone. He's the one who's supposed to be giving the pep talks, not the one needing them.

It's really weird.

…

The couch is too short, too hard, and a bunch of too other stuff that he could name off if he had a bunch of extra time.

He wakes up in the middle of the night because his leg is cramping up from being scrunched up. It's kind of a normal occurrence, and he really doesn't think he's gone an entire night without waking up since he moved here. He sits up a little bit and stretches out his leg. It hurts when he straightens it, but it feels better a second later.

But his leg isn't the worst part about waking up.

Okay, it's basically a one-room apartment. The "rooms" are literally separated by sheets. It's not like any of them have a ton of privacy, and it's not like those thin cotton walls do a whole bunch of good when it comes to blocking out noise. Somebody's having sex. And since Rachel went to bed alone and he's _definitely _all alone in the living room, that only leaves one possibility. It's not the first time he's heard them, but it doesn't make it any less weird or uncomfortable.

He immediately lays back down and only winces a little bit when his leg protests it. He rolls so that his face is pressed into the back of the couch, and he pulls a pillow over his head to try and block out the noise. He also squeezes his eyes shut, like that's going to magically make him fall back asleep or something. It doesn't, of course, and even though the pillow muffles it a little bit, he can still basically hear everything.

He's not sure why he feels so… He doesn't even know what he feels. Almost sad, but that doesn't make sense. Why should he be _sad? _But he's lonely, and even though he tries not to think about it, it's true. Rachel has Funny Girl, Kurt and Blaine have each other. He has… nothing. And it's like he's super uber-aware of it at the moment when he can hear just how _not alone _Kurt and Blaine are. But he's such an idiot, and it's so _stupid._

Blaine was alone last year, and it was Sam who changed that. They spent an entire year making each other _not _be alone- through Kurt and Brittany and even through those few weeks of Penny. Most importantly, though, they made each other not be alone during the parts that were even worse, like after Finn died. Everything was so messed up last year, and there were seriously times Sam didn't know how they'd even make it through. But Blaine was always there, as his best friend and the only person he could ever really count on no matter what. When Brittany dumped him, Blaine was there to pick up the pieces and get him through it. And when Finn died, and he couldn't stand being at home where Carole constantly walked around like a lost zombie on the brink of tears, Blaine gave him an escape. He spent as many nights in Blaine's bed as he did his own, and he never realized before how _safe _that felt.

Maybe that's why he feels so crappy. He obviously knew it would be different in New York because Kurt would be here. But he just didn't know it'd be _this _different. He still thought it would be like… Blaine and Sam. Blam. Them against the world, or at least against the big city. But it's not. It's Blaine and _Kurt. _

And Sam by himself.

…

The full two weeks pass, and he doesn't have another job.

He's still working at the hotel, and he's doing everything he can to make his tips be awesome, but they're really no more awesome when he busts his ass than they are when he just shows up and goes through the motions. He's starting to panic a little bit because the bills are coming due, and his part is supposed to be $600. He has… $276 last time he counted. Not even half. He knows they're not gonna put him out on the street or whatever, but he's also sure they talk behind his back about how annoyed they are at having to pick up his slack. It's not like he's not _trying, _though. He's trying like really, _really _hard.

It's just not working.

…

It almost happens on accident. Well. Not really on _accident, _but it definitely feels like more than a coincidence.

He finishes at the hotel and walks the six blocks to the diner to see if any of his friends are working. He's just got time to kill, so he could stop in and say hey or whatever. They're not, though. One of the servers tells him when he asks, so he just says thanks and heads back out into Times Square so he can make his way to the train. He wanders around for a little bit, though, because he's bored and has nothing else to do. Times Square always kind of takes his breath away, no matter how many times he sees it. It's just like… its own world or something. It always makes him feel like maybe he's not dreaming too big, like maybe one day he'll see his own picture up on one of these billboards.

Maybe.

He's walking down Broadway, and all kinds of people try to shove stuff into his hand. Broadway shows, bus tours, store coupons. One dude in a suit, shoves a card at him and says, "Gentlemen's Club. Free cover, live girls," and he looks down and realizes it's for some strip club. It's 21 and up, so he couldn't even go if he wanted to, but that's not really what he's even thinking about.

The only time he's ever actually been successful at something was when he was stripping.

That's the only job he's ever had that made good money. It's the only time he's ever felt like he was actually _good _at something, even though dancing has never been his strong suit. People still thought he was good. Women still came to that club specifically for _him. _He made good tips, and his boss once told him his "boyish looks" were a huge crowd pleaser. Of course, he was sixteen, so his boyish looks were pretty much just his looks, but still. They didn't know that.

He spent a long time being ashamed of his stripping past, but he's not anymore. He still doesn't want his parents to find out or whatever because that would just suck. He's pretty sure his mom would cry, and he doesn't even want to think about what his dad would say. He'll be okay if he goes to his grave with that secret- at least from his family. But still, he doesn't really think he did anything wrong- well, except for the whole lying about his age and being there totally illegally. But he knows he helped his family out a lot, and even though there are certain things he wish he hadn't done, overall, he's not ashamed of himself.

So that's when it hits him. If there are Gentlemen's Clubs, there have to be Ladies' Clubs, too, right? Where instead of live girls, they have live men. And there are probably a lot of them, to be honest, because this is New York City . Stripping was the easiest and best money he ever made, and if he could just get back into that… at least temporarily…

He immediately gets his phone out and starts searching.

…

"What you do in the back rooms is your business. What you do on the main floor is _my _business. I control wardrobe, music, and themes. This is my club."

He's sitting at an empty bar with a woman named Mary who looks like she's maybe in her mid-40s and has been around the block a few times. He's a little distracted because she's got the same name as his mom, and that's kind of weird, but his mom is the last thing he really needs to be thinking about right now.

After two days of calling around, he finally found a club where someone was at least willing to talk to him. The man on the phone told him to come in on Tuesday and meet with the manager, so he showed up at the address and walked into something totally different from the small club he worked at in Kentucky. This place is huge and shiny, and everything in here looks expensive.

"Got that?" Mary's looking at him expectantly, so he snaps out of his momentary daze and nods.

"Yes, ma'am."

She gives him a half-disgusted/half-confused look. "Don't fucking call people ma'am. I'm not your grandma."

He nods again and looks down at his lap. He always forget that some people find that offensive, and it slips out all the time like automatically. He needs to reprogram his brain.

"What experience do you have?"

"I worked at a club in Kentucky a couple of years ago. For a few months." He's nervous as crap, and he hears his voice give him away a little.

Mary looks down at his application and then raises an eyebrow. "You're only eighteen." He nods. "So what? You were some high school stripper?"

Crap.

"Well," he swipes his tongue over his bottom lip. "Yeah." He doesn't know what else to say.

"I'm pretty sure that's illegal."

"Well, yeah, but I'm really eighteen now, I swear." He starts talking super fast while he grabs his wallet, opens it, and shoves his driver's license at her. "See? That's not a fake ID."

She laughs and pushes his hand away. "This isn't some Podunk Kentucky strip club. You know that, right? Can you actually dance? Like do you have experience with choreography?"

"Umm…" He doesn't know how to answer that question, so he says, "I was in glee club for a lot of years…"

She just stares at him, and he knows she thinks he's some major dork now or something. "Glee club?"

But he nods. "Yeah. We were national champions. We were like really good."

"So you're good with choreography?"

He's not going to come right out and lie and say he's _good _with it. Instead, he just says, "We did a ton of it."

That seems to satisfy her, and he lets out an unconscious sigh of relief. It doesn't last long, though, because a couple of seconds later, she says, "Take off your clothes."

He blinks at her. "What? Like _now?"_

She rolls her eyes. "You realize this is a strip club, right? I'm not going to hire you without seeing the goods."

He stands up and forces himself not to be nervous. He can't be nervous if he's really going to do this again. He has to suck it up. He gets his shirt off and then kicks his shoes off so that he can get out of his jeans, and then he's just standing there in his underwear. He's lost a little weight, but he's been working out like crazy, so he hopes it shows.

"Turn around." Mary's staring him up and down, but he tries not to notice as he turns around so she can look at his back and butt. "Now lose the rest." He's got his back turned to her, but he still has to suck up all of his courage and force himself to act like he's not fazed at all while he does what she says and loses the rest. He hopes his face isn't red, but he's sure thinking about it just had the exact opposite effect. "Now front." He turns around slowly and kind of looks over her head so he doesn't have to see her literally examining his junk. He's got to get over this anyway, so he might as well start now. She seems to stare at him forever, but finally she says, "Okay, you can get dressed."

He grabs his clothes and puts them back on as quickly as possible while she turns back to her paperwork and starts writing something down. He wonders if it's a critique of his body. He knows there's some stuff he could work on, but he's busting his ass trying to be perfect. He really wants to read what she has to say, but he figures it's probably really rude to ask.

"Come to rehearsal in the morning," she says when he sits back down with her at the bar. "I'll give you a trial run. I like your look."

"Really?" And he can't help the smile that kind of breaks through.

"Yeah. What are you doing in this city anyway? I'm assuming you didn't come to New York to work in an all male revue?"

"I want to model."

She kind of smirks and nods. "I figured." He's not sure what that's supposed to mean, but he doesn't get a chance to ask because she's standing up, and he takes that as his cue to leave. "9 AM. Don't be late."

"I won't," he promises. "See you tomorrow. Thank you!"

And just like that, he's found his second job.

…

"So you're going to be a stripper again?"

He's eating dinner with all of his roommates for once, and they're all staring at him, waiting on him to answer Kurt's question. He just told them about his new job, and somehow he doesn't think any of them are overly supportive.

"It's technically an all male revue." He's pretty sure that's what Mary called it.

"So a stripper."

He's not sure what the hell Kurt's problem is, but he just says, "Then yeah."

Nobody says anything after that. They look at him, and then they look at each other. He feels so out of place here, and this is just making it worse. It's finally Rachel who says, "Sam, do you really think that's a good idea?"

"It's a job."

"I just think it might not be great for your modeling…"

He rolls his eyes. "Oh, you mean all those job offers I'm getting all the time?"

Rachel doesn't say anything else. She just shuts her lips and looks down at her lap. There's silence, and it really pisses him off. He's actually happy about this, and all they can do is judge the crap out of him when none of them have any clue. He tries to bite his tongue, but it doesn't help, and he snaps on them before he can stop himself.

"I actually have to _work," _he says hatefully. "I don't have rich parents who pay for everything. None of you have any idea what it's like to actually _need _something, so until you spend a day in the real world, maybe you shouldn't judge people who actually have to _work _for a living!"

He leaves his food on the coffee table and goes to the bathroom because it's the only door he can slam and the only place in this whole apartment where he won't have to look at them. He locks the door behind him and looks in the mirror. He isn't surprised to see how red his face is because he's really, seriously _pissed. _He hasn't been this mad in a long time, and he's literally never felt more alone in his entire life.

Why do they have to be such assholes? Like he knows he doesn't fit into their spoiled, rich Broadway world, but they don't have to make him feel like crap all the time. And the worst part is, he can't even do anything about it because he literally has nowhere else to go. He can't even afford to live in this city with 3 roommates- no way he can afford anything on his own. And he can't go back to Kentucky, either, because that would be giving up and admitting failure, and he promised himself he wasn't going to do that. He has a lot riding on New York- for himself and for his family. He can't just throw in the towel after two months.

Somebody knocks on the door, and he rolls his eyes. "Go away."

"Sam?" It's Blaine. "Open the door."

"Seriously, dude. Leave me alone."

"Sam." He ignores him. "I have to pee."

Sam rolls his eyes again and considers telling him to piss in a bottle, but he doesn't. He unlocks the door and tries to move past him. But Blaine slides into the bathroom, turns the lock, and stands in front of the door to block it. "I don't have to pee."

"What the hell?"

"Why are you so upset?" Blaine asks this like it's a real question, and Sam just stares at him like he's an idiot.

"Maybe because your _fiancé _just attacked the crap out of me for something that's not even his business!" He knows he's reaching because it wasn't just Kurt, and to be fair, Kurt didn't even say much. But his face and his tone said more than enough.

"Nobody attacked you, Sam. We just weren't expecting that."

"Why not? I can't fucking do anything else! I was always going to end up back here one way or the other!"

"Calm down."

He hates when people tell him to calm down. He is one of the calmest people he knows on a day to day basis, so when he actually gets upset about something and people tell him to calm down, he really wants to just… He just hates it.

"None of you have any right to judge me." He's super defensive, but he doesn't care. "You don't have any clue what it's like."

"We're not judging you."

"Bullshit! Every single one of you are, I can tell! I'm not stupid, even though I know all of you think I am!"

"Sam. Calm down."

"Dude, if you tell me to calm down one more time, I will seriously punch you." He's not even joking.

Apparently Blaine thinks he can call his bluff, though, because he says, "Okay, punch me." Sam just glares at him. "You're not going to hit me. So seriously, calm down, so we can talk."

"Don't stand there and say you aren't judging me when I can look at your face and know you're lying. If you have something to say about it, just freaking say it. You've been judging me for it for years!"

He throws it out there because it's the truth, and even though they've never really talked about it, he's pretty sure neither one of them have forgotten one of the first times they ever actually spoke to each other. That time Blaine basically called him a whore and accused him of being for sale. He knows he hasn't forgotten it at least, and judging from Blaine's face, neither has he.

"Sam." Blaine takes a second after that and looks at the floor before he blinks and looks back up. "I'm sorry I ever said any of that. It wasn't even really about you."

"It sure as hell sounded like it was about me!"

Blaine sighs and leans back against the door. "I was being an asshole. And I'm sorry." He shakes his head a little. "I just didn't understand, and you're right, I still don't really understand. But I'm not _judging _you. You're my best friend."

"I have to make money." Sam's less defensive now, and he honestly feels like kind of a jerk.

Blaine nods. "I know. And I'm sure you're gonna be awesome. Just don't be mad at me, okay?"

Sam looks over his head a little bit. "I'm not mad at you."

"Because seriously, I'm not judging you. You're one of the only people in the whole world who I really trust, and I don't like you being pissed at me."

Sam finally looks back at him. "I'm not pissed." And he's not, not at Blaine anyway.

"Good. Now come back, and let's eat."

Sam shakes his head. "I think I'm gonna take a shower."

Blaine nods. "Okay. Well, talk to me later?"

He nods, and Blaine leaves. It's an empty promise, though. He won't talk to him later because Kurt's here, and he never gets to talk to Blaine or do anything with Blaine when he's around Kurt. He wonders if Blaine even notices that, or if he's still on such a high from having his boyfriend back around that he's totally oblivious.

Damn. Why does he even _care _so much? He sounds like Stacy or something when she's not the center of attention. He's just being a baby, and that's so not him. He just… He doesn't even know what. He should be happy because Blaine's happy, but he just feels so freaking jealous or something.

He takes off his clothes and gets into the shower. The water is never really that hot, but it's still kind of early in the night, so it's at least warmer than usual. He tries not to think about Blaine or Kurt or anything else. It's hard not to, though, because it's like completely ingrained on his brain. They have each other, and he has no one. And even though Blaine's supposed to be part his, he's really not. Because he's always going to be Kurt's first, and there's never anything left over after that.

He doesn't understand why he's so upset. He's never been bothered by something like this before. Blaine's not the first friend he's ever had who's ignored him for a boyfriend or a girlfriend. But it just feels so different… He has no idea why, either. Yeah, Blaine's his best friend, but Sam doesn't normally act like this- so jealous or hateful or whatever. He needs to get over it, though, because it's not going to change. This is how it's going to be forever, so he needs to just get used to it.

But god, it sucks.

…

Mary was right. It's sure as hell not some podunk strip club in Kentucky. It's like… Magic Mike.

There are nine other dudes at rehearsal, and they all look older than him. They probably are, considering he's just barely legal. They also all seem way more experienced than him. They're learning a new dance, and there's some kind of stripper choreographer who's there showing them what to do and when to do it, and it's just… Well, it's a lot different than Mr. Schue giving them step ball-change and jazz squares. Sam just does his best to act like he's not struggling as much as he really is. Fake it til you make it. Or break it. In his case, he'll probably break it before he makes it.

But he keeps trying.

It's actually not really hard. The steps aren't that difficult or anything. It's just working with the group and the actual stripping part that's kind of hard. He doesn't act like it bothers him, though, and he just follows the other guys when they start getting to that part. He can tell they're watching him, though, to see if he can keep up. He really needs this, so he does everything he can to not look like a total loser.

When rehearsal's over, he starts getting his stuff together, and a couple of the guys come over to talk to him.

"So when are you supposed to start dancing?"

"Um, I'm not really sure. Mary just said to come to rehearsal."

"You need to learn the rest of the dances. Unless she's only going to put you in certain ones."

He lifts a shoulder and kind of shakes his head. "I don't really know…"

He can't tell if they're being friendly or if they're being intimidating. No matter what they're trying to do, though, he's a little intimidated. He's not that great around new people, and he's always been kind of shy until he gets to know someone. It also doesn't help that his self-esteem has never been the best, so he has this bad habit of like automatically thinking people are making fun of him or being rude.

"New kid!" It's Mary who yells at him from across the room. He didn't even know she was here, and he wonders if she's been here the whole time. She's motioning him over, so he grabs his bag and leaves the guys to go join her. "Carlos says you managed alright."

"Yeah, I think it was okay." He runs a hand through his hair and looks at her.

"You're on solo rehearsals with him for the rest of the week. You start next Monday, so you better be totally caught up by then."

He almost says yes, ma'am, but luckily he remembers that she hates it, so he just nods instead. "I will definitely be caught up. Thank you."

"You're in the big leagues now."

He glances around himself at all the fancy tables and the shiny stage, and she's right. It's definitely the big league.

…

He wakes up in the middle of the night again, but this time the apartment is silent except for somebody's snoring. He thinks it's probably Kurt, but he's not totally positive. He sits up because the cramp in his leg is back, and he needs to stretch.

He thinks about turning on the TV, but he doesn't want to wake anyone else up. It's not like they really care about waking _him _up, but that still doesn't make it okay. He's bored, though, and it's one of those wake ups that immediately lets him know he's going to be up for the long haul and probably won't fall back asleep until an hour before his alarm is set to go off.

He tries to rub the cramp out of his leg and keep his eyes half-closed in an attempt to maybe keep himself halfway sleepy. He's not sure it'll work, but he'll try. It doesn't matter anyway because apparently he's not the only person who's awake. He hears footsteps, and he turns his head to see who's up. It's pretty dark, but his eyes adjust, and when the bathroom door opens, he can see that it's Blaine. He almost says something, but he figures he'll just wait til he gets done peeing or whatever.

It only takes a second anyway, and he's coming right back out. He obviously doesn't realize Sam's awake because he heads right back toward his and Kurt's "room." He's almost naked and has the most ridiculous bedhead, which is a really common occurrence for him. As much gel as he uses during the day, his hair goes totally wild at night after it's washed out. It's not weird to notice stuff like that- it's just being observant or whatever.

Sam misses his window of opportunity, and Blaine disappears back through the sheet that blocks off his so-called room. He leans his head against the back of the couch and looks up at the ceiling, wondering once again why he has to be so jealous of Kurt. It makes him feel like a really bad person because it makes him seem like he's not happy that his best friend is happy. But that's not true. He _is _happy… He just thinks that maybe Blaine could be _happier._

He stops his train of thought because where the hell did that even come from? Blaine's in love with Kurt. They're getting married. So obviously that means he's the happiest he can be, right? It kind of makes Sam want to throw up, to be honest. He knows he's just being a baby or something. But he just… He doesn't know.

He wonders if Blaine's crush is totally gone now that he's back in Kurt's clutches. He doesn't know why he's thinking about it- other than he's just bored and it just kind of pops into his head. It was just sort of nice, the attention or whatever. Flattering maybe. He never felt weird about it or anything- well, maybe just for a second when he realized what was going on. But it's not like it ever actually bothered him. It was just kind of funny actually, and once it was out in the open, they could joke about it or whatever, even though Blaine didn't always seem to think it was that funny. It's probably over now, though. Blaine doesn't have time to think about other dudes now that he's got his mouth permanently attached to Kurt's again.

He's not sure why he's bothered by the thought that Blaine's probably like a hundred percent over it by now. And maybe he's _not _bothered. It was just kind of nice… Some stupid thought pops in his head about who would win if he and Kurt had to fight over Blaine. It's dumb because that would never happen. And anyway, Blaine's engaged to Kurt. And Sam's straight. So it's not like they would ever… Whatever. It doesn't matter.

He lays back down with a million thoughts rolling around in his head, and his stomach kind of cramps up a little bit for no apparent reason. He needs to get over it. This is life now. Deal with it, whatever. 

He doesn't fall asleep for a really long time.

…

…

…

A/N: I think this has two parts (possibly three, probably two). I haven't written in a long time, so here goes nothing. Thanks for reading, and reviews are lovely!


	2. Chapter 2

**JUST MISSED THE TRAIN**

**Part II**

…

It takes almost two weeks of working at the club before he finally feels like he actually _gets _it.

The money is ridiculous. Like way more than he ever expected to be making. He has to tip share with the bouncers and the bartenders, but even after all that, he's still bringing home _way _more than he was from the comic store. He thought the money he made in Kentucky was awesome, but it basically looks like nothing compared to what he's pulling in on a good night now.

The show has six group numbers, and each guy gets an individual number. It's kind of cool because it's structured, and he always knows what's coming next. It's not like he just gets thrown out on the floor at random times, so he always knows when it's his downtime and when he just take a quick break or whatever. Most of the guys he works with are pretty cool, and there are only a couple that seem like actual dicks. Whatever, he just doesn't talk to them. It takes a couple of weeks, but he finally starts feeling pretty comfortable.

The club is full like every night. They sell actual tickets to the show, so there are seats and stuff, and there are always like four or five bachelorette parties going on at any given time. Those are nice because the women never seem to worry about what they're spending on themselves or their friends. It's even better when they're from out of town and in New York for a whole bachelorette weekend or whatever. They _definitely _don't care about throwing money at him then. And they do throw money at him. Literally.

There are always a bunch of tourists who show up, too, and they're also really great at spending money. Apparently vacation money doesn't seem real or whatever because the tourists never seem to mind shoving twenty dollar bills down his shorts. Then there are the rich businesswomen who show up in little packs after work sometimes when they just want to get drunk and go crazy because the rest of their life is so uptight and Type A that a night at the strip club is the only way they can let go. And then there are the gay guys who show up, sometimes for bachelor parties and sometimes just to have fun. They usually make up about a tenth of the audience on any given night, and they definitely know how to spend money, too.

There are backrooms where people can pay for "extra" stuff if they have enough money and if the guys are willing. As far as Sam can tell, pretty much none of his coworkers are against the extra stuff because he's seen them all head toward those rooms after the show to find whoever has requested them. It's not sex, not according to what's actually legal anyway, but the rooms are used for private dances and parties. Sometimes it's just one person or sometimes it's a whole group, like a whole bachelorette party or whatever. Sam starts getting offers like right off the bat, and he never turns them down because the money is awesome, and he'll take whatever he can get.

It's not that bad. It's almost always some bride-to-be whose friends are willing to pay extra so she gets thoroughly embarrassed, or it's just somebody who wants the chance to touch a little bit. It's usually just a lap dance, and yeah, if they're paying that much, he really doesn't care if they touch a little bit more than they're allowed to on the main floor. There's also the occasional woman who wants to take his stage persona and push it a little further, which is always kind of weird, but he's getting a little better at playing a specific character. After all, this whole thing is just playing a part, isn't he? He has to be whatever the customers want him to be- a stranger, a boyfriend, whatever. On stage, he has to play some schoolboy thing and try to seduce his teacher, usually some middle-aged woman at her own divorce party who's pulled up on stage to sit in a chair while he dances for her and the rest of the crowd. It always feels pretty dumb, but he gets it- he's the young, innocent, virginal-looking one. It's his character, so he goes with it, but it's still kind of weird when people want to do that in private. It's usually just some older woman with a kink who wants to like spank him or something. But he only lets them do that sometimes, and he almost always makes them pay extra.

Those women definitely don't mind when he calls them ma'am.

But that's it really. The backrooms are just a way to make pretty decent money turn into pretty _good _money. And when bills roll around again, he has the full amount for the first time since he moved here. He even throws in some extra to help make up for some of the past months when he's been short. His roommates don't ever bring up his job really, not since that night he went off on everybody. Apparently there's some unspoken agreement that they'll just stay out of his business from now on so that everybody keeps the peace. It's none of their business anyway, and it's not like he's hurting anyone. They can just keep whatever opinions they have to themselves.

He doesn't really care anyway.

…

He literally bumps into a girl in the subway station, but he makes the mistake of looking at her when he goes to apologize, and it feels like some super cheesy twist of fate or something.

She's absolutely gorgeous. Like model gorgeous. She's got long blonde hair and beautiful eyes, and that's exactly his type. She smiles at him when his mumbled apology gets trapped in his throat, and he swears she's like too pretty to even be real. They're waiting for the same train, and if he didn't know better, he would swear she sits beside him on purpose, even though there are tons of empty seats.

"Do you bump into girls on purpose so you have an excuse to talk to them?" She surprises him by asking the question as soon as the train starts moving.

He's nervous and a little shy, but he just laughs a little and shakes his head. "Nah, I kind of just bump into stuff a lot for no reason."

She laughs, too, and says, "I'm Emily."

"Sam." He shakes the hand she holds out to him. It feels kind of formal, but maybe this is just how people meet in New York. He doesn't really know.

"So, Sam. What do you do? Besides bump into stuff, of course?"

He smiles again. "I work at a hotel." It's much safer than adding in his second job. "But I'm trying to model."

She raises her eyebrows. "And how's that going?"

"It's not."

She kind of scrunches up her nose and nods. "It's a tough city. I've been trying to sell my art for four years now. I think I've made a total of $27 off it. And I'm sure I've spent $27,000 on it."

"You're an artist?" It's crazy how literally everybody in this town is doing _something._

"I sculpt. There's not much money in it, but it's my passion. During the day, I'm a paralegal."

"Oh, wow. That sounds…"

"Boring?" She smiles again. "Completely. But it pays the bills, right? Gotta do what you gotta do."

He nods, and her words ring true to him. _You gotta do what you gotta do. _It's basically his motto every time he starts feeling a little weird about the dancing. Desperate times call for desperate measures and all that. He still doesn't say any of that to her.

She gives him her number before she finally gets off at her stop. She tells him to give her a call and maybe they can get coffee in between modeling and sculpting, and she gives him this really pretty smile right before she steps off the train.

He's pretty sure he's just met his new soul mate.

…

Turns out, she's not.

He calls her the next day, and she says she gets a break at 3 and suggests this downtown coffee shop close to her office. He wasn't really thinking of a literal coffee break for their first date, but he'll take what he can get. He's not at the restaurant today, and he doesn't have to be at the club until 7, so he's got plenty of time to meet her.

She looks way different when she shows up. She's dressed in this tight knee length skirt and a tucked in button up. She has on heels that look like they're 12 inches high, and she's got her hair pulled back into this low ponytail. So basically, she looks like every other businesswoman in this town. He really shouldn't be surprised, but he feels really freaking underdressed and poor when she joins him in the line.

They have some coffee and talk about some stuff. He feels more uncomfortable every second as more and more people pour in wearing power suits and carrying briefcases. He's not sure if it's 100 percent the location or if Emily herself seems different than what he thought. Maybe he was just too distracted by her looks on the train to realize that she has a really annoying voice and that she flips her hair too much. It's especially distracting with the ponytail because it's not even like she has anywhere to flip it to. The conversation starts getting awkward and lulling, and apparently whatever they had to talk about on a twelve minute subway ride isn't enough to merge over into a twenty minute coffee break.

He's glad when she says she has to go back to work, and she gives him a strained kind of smile and says to call her.

They both know he won't.

…

"Well, at least you didn't spend a lot of money on a full meal. You're only out a cup of coffee." Blaine sips on his own coffee while he and Sam sit on the couch watching reruns of Family Feud.

"Yeah, but I also didn't get to have sex with her." His head falls back against the cushions a lot more dramatically than he really intends.

Blaine just sort of looks at him. "Is that your main concern? Just to have sex?"

"Right now, _yeah." _Sam rolls his eyes and doesn't care if he sounds like a total douchebag. "It's kind of been awhile." And that's putting it mildly. He hasn't had sex with anyone since _Brittany, _and that was forever ago. Maybe he should have more class than that or something, but he's eighteen. Sex is kind of high up there on the list of things on his mind.

"Well," and it's totally obvious that Blaine's half-judging him for being a normal horny teenager, "if sex is your main objective, I'm sure you could find plenty of people in this city who are willing to sleep with you. You're not exactly ugly."

"I know I'm not." And what? He does know it. The corner of Blaine's mouth lifts, and Sam can tell he's about to bust his balls over being so full of himself or something, so he cuts him off before he gets the chance. "But what the hell am I supposed to do? Walk up to some chick at the bus stop and be like, _'Hey, I'm Sam. Wanna bang?'" _Ironically, his impression of himself is pretty terrible.

"No… But you could try going to a club or something. Somewhere where the entire purpose is to meet people…"

Sam immediately rolls his eyes. "Oh, you mean on the eighth night of the week when I'm not working? I'm getting kind of desperate here. It's been a _really _long time. Especially since you wouldn't even let me have sex with Tina."

Blaine pulls the exact same disgusted face Sam expected. "Dude. Don't ever say that again."

"Well. I'm just saying. I might not be _this _desperate if you weren't such a baby."

Blaine shrugs then. "Maybe you should just take a vow of chastity then."

"Maybe you should, too," Sam immediately shoots back. "Then I might be able to sleep at night."

Blaine just looks at him, and it's obvious that he understands and is embarrassed. "I…"

Sam just shrugs a shoulder, though. "Eh, it's cool." It's not, but whatever. "At least somebody in this apartment is getting laid."

He's joking, but he's really not.

…

The only good thing to come out of his lack of sex is that apparently his conversation with Blaine has also made him aware that the walls in their apartment are nonexistent and that the curtains are maybe a lot thinner than he originally thought. Because three nights go by without Sam being woken up even once by sex noises.

It's weird, though. He still wakes up, and being awake in the middle of the night with nothing else to do still mostly makes him think about sex. That's obviously not awesome for a whole lot of reasons, not the least of which is that he doesn't have any… outlets, and Kurt's vintage couch is definitely not the best place to be having those issues. He just tries not to think about it, but that doesn't really work.

He thinks about sex in a broad sense, not just about his own sex. Like he can't help it because it's just in his head, and that's just life apparently. It's not like he even watches that much porn or anything, but he sometimes he gets images in his head that aren't the nicest, and it's a lot of work to push them away when they're dead set on staying there. He's not sure what his problem is lately- like is he really _that _hard up? It could also be the fact that he spends every night in a place that really couldn't get more sexualized if it tried.

So he thinks about things. About sex. And about strippers. And just about a bunch of it. In his head, everything's always a blur. Men and women, mostly faces he doesn't recognize, just in and out of his head like a movie. It's normal, though, right? He's not some huge pervert. He's just eighteen, and this is what eighteen year old guys' heads are supposed to look like.

Right?

…

Rachel's show is opening soon, and she's a total freaking nightmare.

She's always been kind of crazy, but she's just taking it to a whole new level these days. She spends all her time singing loudly in the bathroom or in her "room" or in the kitchen or wherever. Kurt tells her she should probably be saving her voice, but she just says that she's the professional, and she has to keep her instrument tuned.

She's driving everybody nuts, and nobody's really making too much of a secret about it. Kurt's the most vocal about it, but that's because he's the only one who's not secretly terrified of her. She chooses to ignore it for the most part, though, and she just goes on acting like she's totally oblivious. She does make them all come to a dress rehearsal, though, and since Sam's never actually been to a Broadway show or anything, it's kind of cool to see.

She's actually amazing. The whole show is pretty good, even though some parts are kind of boring. But it's easier to watch when it's one of his friends up there. It kind of just makes him feel even more like a loser than he already does, though. He's proud of Rachel, for sure. But she's the star of a Broadway show. _Broadway. _And what is he doing? Catering to rich assholes and taking his clothes off for cash. He wonders why some people get all the breaks- like if they're really that amazing or if they're just lucky. He's pretty sure he's never been lucky at anything in his entire life.

But at least he's used to it.

…

With four people and one bathroom, there's not a lot of privacy.

He rarely has the bathroom alone because there is always someone in their showering or doing their hair or brushing their teeth. He doesn't exactly live with an apartment full of low maintenance people, but he's getting used to it. It kind of reminds him of living in the motel, to be honest, because he never got any privacy there, either. It's worse now, though, because nobody in his family ever needed a half hour to apply hair gel or an extra fifteen minutes of shower steam to enhance their vocal cords.

Of course, it goes both ways, and sometimes he needs to get into the bathroom while other people are using it, even though he never takes up as much time as the rest of them do. He has to be at the hotel in an hour, and he needs to leave really soon because you can never count on MTA to actually be running the planned schedule. He's learned that the hard way several times. Kurt and Rachel are both gone, and Blaine's in the shower, so Sam doesn't really think too much about going right in.

He announces himself after he opens the door, and he tries to wave some of the steam out of the room. Their hot water isn't awesome, but everything is so enclosed that it fills the bathroom up really fast.

"Did Kurt leave?" Blaine raises his voice to be heard over the water while Sam grabs a hand towel and tries to clear off some of the steam from the mirror.

"Yeah, he said he had to talk to an advisor." He reaches for his toiletry bag and pulls out his toothbrush. Everyone else has entire shelves devoted to their multiple cosmetics and beauty products, but all of his is in the same little clear plastic bag his mom bought him before he came to New York for the first time with glee back in sophomore year.

The water shuts off, and Blaine sounds annoyed when he says, "Of course he does."

Sam's already brushing his teeth when the shower curtain slides open, and Blaine steps out, wrapping a towel around his waist. He looks at him, though, with raised eyebrows to show that there needs to be some kind of further explanation.

Blaine grabs his own toothbrush and steals the tube of toothpaste that's still in Sam's hand. "He's always talking to advisors and teachers and doing everything he can to get on people's good sides. They all act like he's some kind of prince, too, so obviously they all just eat it up. He's just doing it to get ahead."

Sam's not sure where that's coming from, but it sounds like Blaine's jealous of Kurt, which is weird and not really something Sam expected. He spits the toothpaste out into the sink and rinses his mouth before he says, "Why do you sound like that?"

And Blaine makes some annoyed face and rolls his eyes while he finishes brushing his teeth. When he finally spits, he says, "Because he acts like some kind of suck up, and I don't understand why! They all love him there- it's not like he needs extra brownie points."

"You're jealous, aren't you?"

Blaine just sort of gawks at him like he can't believe Sam would ask that question. "No, I'm not _jealous!" _He grabs some kind of hair product off his shelf and starts working it through his curls. Sam seriously doesn't know why he doesn't just leave it curly. It looks so much better that way. "I just… I don't know why everybody thinks he's so great. I mean, he _is _great. But I just… I don't think he's better than me." Sam stares at him, and it obviously takes a second for him to actually hear the words himself. "Shit," he finally says. "That sounded really dickish, didn't it?"

Sam just shrugs. It _did _sound dickish, but he basically agrees with Blaine. He doesn't think Kurt's better than him, either.

"I just don't get why they all hate me so much. Like no matter how hard I try, it's never good enough. And Kurt just floats through all of it like it's some kind of breeze or something. It's not fair."

"Well, one day you're gonna be some awesome famous actor winning awards, and they'll all be sorry for not kissing your ass."

Blaine rolls his eyes, but he smiles a little anyway. "I know you're obligated to say that as my best friend, but thank you."

"It's the truth, though." And it is. "You shouldn't let those idiots bother you. You're going to be better than all of them."

There's a few seconds of silence, and it starts feeling weird pretty fast. Sam's not sure why he's being so sappy because that's not really his style. He's a good motivator and has a pretty good knack of cheering people up, but he doesn't normally get so… girly. Or whatever.

"I have to go," he finally says, breaking whatever silence is crowding them. "In case the train's late or something."

Blaine nods. "Okay, yeah. I'll see you later then." Sam starts to leave, but Blaine grabs his elbow before he gets too far. "Wait! Come here." He tugs Sam back over to him and uses his thumb to reach up and brush against Sam's lip. "You have some toothpaste," he explains, and then he takes his hand away just as quickly.

It feels… weird. Or something. Sam tries not to notice it because he's a thousand percent sure that Blaine doesn't.

But it takes awhile for the feeling of Blaine's thumb on his mouth to go away.

…

He comes home from a jog one day and runs into Kurt and Blaine in the stairwell. They stop when they see him, even though they're obviously on their way out somewhere.

It's Blaine, obviously, who is nice and says, "We're going to get lunch. Do you wanna come?"

Kurt's got a not-so-secret go to hell look on his face, which kind of gives away the fact that he in no way, shape, or form wants Sam to tagalong. Not that he wants to anyway. "Nah, I've got to shower and then get ready for work."

"Do you want us to bring you something back?"

"Blaine, he just said he has to go to work." Kurt cuts in and shuts that down right away.

It annoys Sam, and he's not sure why. So instead of agreeing with Kurt (which he actually does), he says, "I might have time. Text me when you're getting done, and I'll see where I am on time."

Blaine nods and gives him a smile. Sam has absolutely no idea why he does it, but he wraps an arm around Blaine and pulls him into this half-hug sort of thing. Granted, they are already kind of touchy feely as it is, but there's really no reason to hug him when he's just heading down the block for lunch. But Kurt doesn't look impressed, which makes Sam feel good for some reason. And then he kind of realizes he's a jerk because he hugged him just to get that exact reaction.

He really doesn't know _why, _but something about it makes him feel kind of smug. And he doesn't hate it.

…

He starts doing it a lot after that.

He constantly tries to find reasons and excuses to get in little touches here and there, especially whenever Kurt's around. He knows it pisses him off because he can see it on his face. Blaine seems totally oblivious, though, which kind of makes it even better. Sam just plays innocent and acts like he doesn't notice that he's doing anything or that anyone- _Kurt- _might have a problem with it.

And seriously, he has no idea why he's doing it. Why does he need to make Kurt jealous? It's not like it's a competition or anything, even though deep down he knows it kind of is. He has a really strong feeling that Kurt likes him less and less all the time, and he's pretty sure it's due to the fact that he doesn't like sharing. Sam, on the other hand, is a very good sharer. But when there's nothing left over for him, it's kind of hard to enjoy his part. And even though he's still not _really _getting his share, at least he's pissing Kurt off.

Now if only he could figure out why he's enjoying it so much.

…

He gets a hint at the answer soon enough.

He wakes up in the middle of the night, but this time it's not because of leg cramps or roommate noises. He wakes up from a dream soaked in sweat and has to remember where he is for a second because he's totally disoriented.

What the hell?

He's had his share of sex dreams over the years, and some of them have been way weirder than other ones. But… You know, he's never had them about a dude, especially a dude who's supposed to be his best friend. And when he wakes up, he's more freaked out than anything.

After the initial five minutes where he freaks out about everything a dream like that could mean, he finally just tells himself that it's probably normal. Obviously he's got sex on the mind a lot these days. He clearly feels himself edging toward desperation in that area anyway because seriously, it's been _months. _And he blames the whole gay part of it on the strip club because he's gotten pretty good at convincing dudes he swings that way in order to get their money. But all that's just a fantasy and pretend- it doesn't _mean _anything.

But that's obviously what the dream's about.

It doesn't mean anything, either. It's just some stupid dream. One time he dreamed he was playing Frisbee with a grizzly bear- that doesn't mean he has some desire to be mauled and eaten alive. It's just a dumb dream, like any other dream that doesn't mean anything. And if it turned him on a little, it's just because he's a horny teenage boy and _everything _turns him on.

It doesn't mean anything else.

…

He can't stop thinking about it.

He tells himself to just forget it because it was dumb, and it didn't mean anything, but he feels so weird now, like all the time. Every time he sees Blaine (or Kurt), he thinks about it, and it makes him feel like an asshole. But seriously. It's not like he can control his dreams, and it's not like any of that was real. It couldn't have been real anyway because in his dream, he had his own bed in his own room, and clearly that isn't happening _any _time soon. But whatever, that's so not the point.

He feels guilty, like he did something wrong, even though he knows he didn't. But even more than that, it just makes him _think. _He starts wondering if all of his jealousy over Blaine's relationship with Kurt has less to do with him feeling like he's losing his best friend and more to do with the fact that maybe he has some deep-rooted desire to be the other person in that relationship or something. It's so stupid. He's not gay. He's liked girls forever, or at least ever since they stopped having cooties, somewhere around fifth grade. Like _obviously _he likes girls. He's had more "serious girlfriends" than anyone he knows. It's not his fault that they all turn out to be bitches who cheat on him or dump him or don't want him for this reason or that reason. That's them, not him. He keeps trying, no matter how many times he gets kicked around.

But that's why Blaine is so important to him. In his whole life, Blaine's the best friend he's ever had. He's never felt that close to anybody before, and he's never had anyone who he just really felt _loved _him totally unconditionally. Well, nobody besides his family anyway, but they don't count. Blaine's just the only person who has ever let him totally be himself and has never tried to change him (well, he's tried to change his wardrobe and his hair a few times, but still), and he's the one person Sam feels like is a constant who he doesn't have to worry about leaving no matter what.

That's why he feels so guilty. It's not like when Blaine had a crush on him last year- that was something Blaine couldn't control. And maybe Sam encouraged it a little more than he should have, but it was just for fun. It wasn't like he was being serious or anything. But this… Dreaming about Blaine like _that… _ Sam almost feels like he caused it to happen. Like all of his petty jealousy and unwarranted anger just balled up in his subconscious and created this _dream _that not only makes him feel like a huge asshole but is also half-ruining his relationship with his best friend because he can barely even stand to look at him anymore thanks to all the guilt he constantly feels.

And yeah, he knows he's overreacting by like a million times, but he seriously can't help it.

…

He comes home really late from work one night, and Blaine's the only one up. He's sitting at the table with some books open and his laptop right in front of him. He's obviously working on something, but he looks up when Sam comes in.

He says, "Hey," and Sam tells himself to not be a dick because it's not like he can keep on ignoring him forever.

"What are you doing?" He nods at the books and stuff while he takes off his jacket and hangs it up on the hooks by the door.

"Homework."

"You have homework at singing school?"

Blaine rolls his eyes. "It's not just singing, Sam. We have theory and history and composition and…" He cuts himself off when it's obvious Sam doesn't care about what classes he's taking. "You're later than usual."

"Yeah, I stayed because I had four privates." He doesn't know why he says it because normally he doesn't discuss his job with any of his roommates, and they don't discuss it with him. It just helps if they all ignore the topic all together, but maybe he's sick of having to ignore it.

Blaine just looks at him for a second and says, "Oh," before he looks down at one of the books in front of him. It's super obvious that he's not actually reading, though, and Sam wants to call him on it but doesn't.

Instead, he goes to the cabinet and pulls out the box of granola that doubles as his bank. He sets it on the counter before emptying his pockets and adds tonight's earnings to the wad of cash that's already currently occupying the box.

"Sam, that's so not safe." It's approximately the fiftieth time one of his roommates has told him how unsafe it is to keep that kind of cash in an apartment in Bushwick. However, unlike his roommates, Sam knows the importance of being able to actually see your money. None of his roommates ever had to listen to their parents yell at each other for days after their bank account was frozen by the court a month before their house was foreclosed on.

So yeah, he doesn't really care too much about their opinion on the matter.

He ignores Blaine and grabs a bottle of water from the fridge after he puts the granola box back in its place on the shelf. "So what's been up?" He sits down in one of the empty chairs, and he's not even sure what he's doing. He's pretty sure he's trying to force himself into getting some semblance of normalcy back so that he can stop beating himself up and feeling like a jerk.

Blaine, though, actually seems relieved to have someone (maybe Sam specifically) ask about his life. "I still suck at everything, and Kurt's still some magical god." He glances behind him toward the curtain that blocks off their space, but there's no indication that anyone's awake.

"Stop saying that." Sam lowers his voice because this is obviously a conversation that doesn't need to wake anyone and end up with eavesdropping. "You don't suck."

"I'm not used to this." And Blaine actually looks half-panicked or something. "I know maybe I've had it too easy or something, but I just don't understand what the hell I'm doing wrong! It's like nothing I do is ever good enough at that school."

"If they can't tell how awesome you are, then fuck them." He's being dead serious, too.

Blaine lets out this sigh, and he looks at something in the corner. He's got his bottom lip between his teeth, and Sam's eyes go to his mouth without really thinking about it. Those same lips that were in the dream that's basically been ruining his life for the past several weeks. He always tells himself not to think about it, not to rehash it, but he does anyway. He can't help it. But seriously, he does _not _to be thinking about those things in real-life terms.

What the hell is wrong with him?

"I'm jealous of Kurt." Blaine finally looks back at Sam and blinks, like he's admitting something out loud for the first time. He probably is.

Sam nearly says, _"Join the club," _but he doesn't because that would be a recipe for all kinds of disaster. Instead, he just shrugs one shoulder. "That doesn't make you a bad person."

"It does make me a bad person if I'm secretly wishing bad things about the person I'm in love with."

Sam ignores the pang in his stomach when Blaine says the last part. Instead, he focuses on the first. "You're not wishing bad things just because you're a little jealous that things are going easier for him."

Blaine looks back at the curtain again, but there's still just silence. He still lowers his voice even more. "No, I actually wish bad things. Like that he would mess up or fail a class or something. That makes me a bad person."

Sam should probably feel something else besides secret smugness at Blaine's confession, but he doesn't. Maybe he's a bad person, too, because Blaine thinking bad things about Kurt makes him inexplicably happy. Of course, he's careful not to let any of that show.

"I think that's just normal," he says lamely. "And you don't _really _wish those things." He _really _hopes he does.

Blaine doesn't seem convinced anyway. He just frowns and runs a hand through his hair. He's obviously already had a shower because it's gel-free, and Sam wonders why the hell he doesn't just leave it like that. It looks so much better. And it's all thick and soft, so Sam can't understand the appeal of the gel all the time. He has a really bad habit of constantly having his hand in his hair- especially when it was long, but even when it's short, too. There's something calming about it. He just likes the way it feels or something. Blaine has perfect hair for pushing his hand through, so he doesn't understand why he denies himself that all the time.

"Don't say anything, okay?" Blaine looks at Sam like he's honestly worried he'll run to Kurt, wake him up, and tell him everything about their conversation. He's crazy.

"Dude, I don't tell your secrets."

Blaine nods. "I know."

"So?"

"So, okay." Blaine looks like he hates himself or something, and Sam can't stand to see him looking like that.

He doesn't know what to say, though, so he just swallows whatever's on his mind and heads off to wash some of the club stink off.

…

It doesn't matter what he does. He can't stop thinking about it.

It goes from constantly rehashing the dream to zoning in on stuff about Blaine that he really should never be noticing in the first place to consciously thinking up stuff in his head about stuff that's never going to happen and that straight dudes should not be thinking about to begin with. It makes living in the loft harder than ever, and he starts doing everything he can to stay the hell away as much as possible.

When he is at home, he tries to just stick to himself most of the time. Sometimes he talks to Rachel or even Kurt, but that one's harder because he still feels like a giant dick. But talking to Blaine just gets harder and harder because he's always looking at his eyes or his lips or something else that not only makes him feel like a terrible person but also confuses the hell out of him.

He doesn't think it's possible to feel worse about himself, but he literally doesn't even know who he is anymore. He's questioning everything about himself because if he could have gotten _this _wrong… But no, he's not wrong. He's not gay. He's never been gay, and that doesn't just change overnight.

But telling himself that really doesn't make all these feelings go away, either.

…

Saturday nights are the best.

The show is almost always sold out, and the mix of people in the crowd is the greatest. When the crowd is awesome, it always makes things better- both for his wallet and for his overall mood. He doesn't _hate _his job, but it makes things a lot easier when people are having fun and enjoying themselves. Tonight is an awesome crowd, and they're so responsive that it makes everybody in the show just want to do more, and Sam's no exception.

He's way more comfortable with all of this than he was at the beginning, and even though he still realizes it's a little weird, he mostly just ignores it because the money is great and because it's kind of the ideal job, considering he makes more in a couple of hours than he'd be making working double shifts anywhere else.

After the show, he ends up in one of the back rooms with a bachelorette party who basically _all _want a turn. He doesn't mind because they all seem like rich sorority girls fresh out of college or maybe still in college. He's sure their daddies don't know they're spending their money at a male strip club, but what Daddy doesn't know can't hurt him.

They're all pretty grabby, and he won't lie and say he hates it. Sometimes it's annoying- like when the women are old enough to be his mom or when they're too druk to have any idea what boundaries mean. But sometimes, like right now, he's pretty okay with it. All these girls are at least semi-hot, and other than the fact that at least one of them is getting married in the very near future, he doesn't know anything else about them. And that's just fine with him.

But when their time is up, and he's $200 richer than he was thirty minutes before, he's kind of worked up. He does a good job of separating work from reality, but sometimes he just can't help it, and ten pretty girls running their hands all over him kind of gets him to that point. He does his best to ignore it when he heads back to the dressing room to change clothes, but one of the bouncers heads him off and asks if he wants one more. To be honest, he's pretty tired and would kind of just like to go home (and maybe jerk off), but it's hard to pass up easy money, so he says okay.

This time there's no party. It's just one guy who looks semi-nervous when Sam comes in the room. He looks pretty well-off, though, and it's kind of sad how accustomed Sam has become to judging somebody's money situation based on their outward appearance. It's not surprising, though. The more money somebody has, the more likely they are to spend big with him, and it's not like he's just in this for the hell of it. He's in it for the money, so the more of that there is, the better.

The guy wants a lap dance, and Sam's more than willing to give him one, especially for the $50 bill he flashes him. Once upon a time, giving a lap dance to another dude might have weirded him out. He never did that in Kentucky because guys never came in there-straight, gay, whatever. It was always just women. But in New York, there are plenty of men, and Sam's way past the point of feeling weird about something he does almost every night.

The dude's nervousness starts disappearing pretty quickly, and just like the girls before him, he gets his fair share of groping in. Sam doesn't care. If this guy wants to squeeze his ass and run his hands all over his hips and thighs, he can go for it. He's still paying, and after ten minutes, they'll probably never see each other again. And anyway, it doesn't feel weird or anything. It basically when girls touch him, which is generally pretty good depending on the time and the person.

But ten minutes pass, and Sam's still straddling the guy when he leans up close to his ear and asks, "How much for extra? Your mouth is amazing," in this really low voice that almost makes Sam shiver.

He pulls back a little bit and says, "Extra what?" even though he's almost sure he already knows.

The guy just sort of looks down at his lap and confirms. Sam looks down, too, and a million things go through his head. He never goes for extra anything. Some other guys who work here do, and that's the prerogative or whatever, but Sam never does. People proposition him all the time- hell, one of the girls from the bachelorette party practically begged him to go back to her hotel with her- but he always says no. That's just a matter of principle or whatever.

But seriously? He's horny as fuck right now and has been for a long time. All the stupid thoughts he's been having and all the confusion going through his head isn't helping much, either. But still. Doing something like that is going to a level he swore he'd never go to again. Money isn't _that _important… Back then, he was desperate. Now he's just… greedy.

He surprises himself when he says, "Two-hundred."

The guy looks shocked, like maybe that's way too much. Sam doesn't really know the going price, so maybe he way overshot it. But if he's going to do it, he's going to make sure it's worth it.

"Are you gay?"

"No," Sam answers immediately. And he's not. He's just… He just wants to know some things. And maybe this is a good way to find out.

His answer doesn't seem to deter the guy underneath him, though, and he reaches into the back of his pants to get out his wallet and hand Sam two crisp hundred dollar bills. Sam actually hesitates before taking them. Like if he touches that money, then it's real, and the mini freakout in his head hits him like a ton of bricks. But the next thing he knows, he's kicking those thoughts out of his head, his hand is grabbing the money, and it's tucking the bills into the side of his briefs.

He doesn't say or think about anything else when he moves off of the guy's lap and goes to his knees instead.

It's just a job.

…

No one's awake when he gets home, and he's glad.

He doesn't care how loud he is when he goes to the bathroom and turns the water as hot as it can possibly go. He spends forever in the shower, scrubbing himself and trying to make himself feel clean. It doesn't work, and he knows why. No amount of soap in the world can scrub that feeling away- he already knows that from prior experience. But it doesn't stop him from trying.

He brushes his teeth six times trying to get the taste out of his mouth, but it won't go away, either. He feels sick, and he's kind of surprised that he doesn't throw up all over the bathroom. He can't believe he just did that. And for what? He got some money out of it, but what else? He didn't enjoy it. It made him feel gross, and it didn't answer any of the questions in his head. He's still just as confused as he was before, maybe even more.

And now he's officially a whore.

He can't sleep, even though he feels exhausted. All he can do is just keep thinking about what he did and why he did it. And he's got nothing. Nothing makes him feel better. He wants to talk to somebody. He wants to talk to _Blaine. _But he can't because Blaine would hate him and think he was gross and would never want to talk to him again. He'd lose his best friend, and he already feels like he's losing him fast enough as it is. But he really wishes he could tell him this and that Blaine wouldn't judge him and would just listen and tell him everything would be okay. But he can't.

And this is all mostly Blaine's fault anyway!

He's not sure when he starts crying, but he feels the tears as they leak down his cheek and hit his pillow. He's never felt worse in his entire life.

…

…

…

A/N: Thanks to the people who reviewed on the last chapter. I'm glad at least a few people are enjoying it! There's still more to come, so watch out for it!


	3. Chapter 3

**JUST MISSED THE TRAIN  
Part III**

…

Things go from bad to worse.

He shuts down almost completely and starts avoiding the loft at all costs. He can't stand to be around any of them, but he especially can't stand to be around Blaine. So he leaves as early as possible and comes home as late as possible. It's not that hard, especially with working two jobs. When he has downtime, he just spends it at the gym or sometimes at a coffee house where he can blend in with students and aspiring writers and artists who are all working away at their laptops and tablets. He doesn't have either one of those things, but he brings his sketchbook along and does some drawing.

He's always had some artistic talent, but it's never been something he really takes seriously. It's just a hobby. Just like singing. Unlike pretty much everyone he knows, he never had some dream to take his music and have it turn him into some kind of star. He got a guitar for his tenth birthday, and it was the coolest thing ever because he could just play on it and figure it out by himself. His parents put him in lessons, but he was never great at reading music (or reading much of anything for that matter), so he only stayed for a few months. It was easier to do on his own and play by ear. Singing just sort of followed it, and yeah, he likes singing, and obviously glee club was a huge part of his life in high school, but that was the end of it. He has no desire to go record a demo and try to get a record deal. Just like he has no desire to take his sketches or his macaroni art and try to sell them to an art gallery. His art teacher even told him once that he was "exceptionally gifted," which needless to say, was the first and only time anyone had ever used those words about him, but that still didn't unearth some secret desire in him to apply to art schools or actually _do _anything with it.

But in the coffee shop, he can just relax and sketch and not worry about all the other crap going on in his life. He just draws random stuff- people at their tables, giant mugs of hot chocolate, whatever's in his line of sight. It gives him something to do, helps distract him, and makes him blend in with all the other people who are working away around him. Those people don't notice him. They don't look at him and think _STRIPPER. _He feels like that's what his actual friends think every time they look at him, and he doesn't even want to imagine what they would think if they knew everything else.

The easiest thing to do is just avoid them. The less he's around them, the less time they have to look at him and judge him. So he just disappears.

…

He has almost $4000 hidden in his granola box.

That's more money than he's ever seen, and he doesn't know what to do with it. He takes $300 out and puts it in a Christmas card addressed to his parents. They haven't asked for anything, but he knows things are tight on a good day and really strained in December. He's not going home for Christmas because he can't get off work from the hotel. It hurts to think about it because he's never not been with his family on Christmas, ever. His mom sounded really upset when he told her, and he knows she's probably hurt by it. Stacy cried about it when she called him and asked him if he was going to be home in time for the holiday concert at her school. He feels bad. It sucks, and he feels like crap. There's also the fact that he's crazy homesick and kind of _needs _to see his family for a whole lot of reasons. But it doesn't matter because he can't do it- he just needs to suck it up and deal with it. So he sends his parents some money and writes a note in the card telling them to make sure Stacy and Stevie get spoiled for Christmas. The past few Christmases have been pretty thin, and he just wants them to have a great Christmas. He knows it'll be great anyway because his parents will make sure the kids have a good day. They may not get a ton of presents, but they'll get apple pancakes and Christmas cookies and an awesome lunch and all the other traditions that no creditors or mortgage companies can take away from.

Sam just wants to make sure they get the presents, too.

His mom calls him when she gets the card and tells him she's sending it back.

"You need this money. We're fine, I promise."

He tries to ignore the tears he can hear in her voice. "I know you're fine. But I don't need it, I swear."

"Sam."

"I promise, Mom. Just get the kids whatever they want. I know Stevie really, really wants those tie-dye Vans. The high tops, not the low ones." He's seriously been talking about them for weeks. "I'll send you a picture if you don't know which ones I'm talking about."

"I know which ones." She still sounds really skeptical. "Sam, you need this money."

"No, I don't. I promise!"

"You're not making that much money waiting tables."

He hates lying to her. _Hates _it. But he doesn't have any other choice. "I get really good tips." Not technically a lie. "I promise, Mom. I've got plenty."

She finally lets it go.

He takes out some more money and goes shopping on his own. He orders his mom this really nice necklace from Macy's that the woman at the jewelry counter says will have all three of his, Stevie, and Stacy's birthstones. He doesn't even know what his own birthstone is, let alone theirs, but he trusts her when he gives her the months. When it comes in, he takes it and the new wallet he buys for his dad, wraps them up, and signs his own name and his brother and sister's names to a card. He goes to this skate store and picks out a new deck for his brother because he knows he really wants one, and he doesn't actually trust his mom to pick out one that Stevie will actually like. Stacy's a little more difficult, but he manages to get Rachel away from Funny Girl long enough to drag her to the American Girl store and help him pick out a doll with blonde hair and brown eyes and a soccer uniform. His mouth actually drops open when he sees the prices, but he can afford it, and he knows it'll make his little sister happy. It costs a ton to ship all of the stuff, but he doesn't really mind. He just wants to make sure it gets there in time.

He wants more than anything to be with his family on Christmas morning, but since he can't, at least he can maybe make them smile.

…

Kurt and Blaine are going back to Lima. It's the first Christmas without Finn, and Kurt says he _has _to be there no matter what. Blaine obviously goes with him because they're engaged, and that's apparently what engaged people do- they stay stuck to each other's hips in every situation. The second Sam even thinks it, he wants to punch himself in the face.

So not the time to be a jealous jackass.

They have a super early flight out, so they say their goodbyes the night before. Sam's at work, but Blaine texts him and tells him they're leaving early so they'll see him when they get back. It bothers Sam a little that everything in the text is "we" and not "I." It's like Blaine's not even his own person anymore or something. He just texts back, "ok be careful," and leaves it at that.

But it doesn't matter because he wakes up the next morning while Kurt and Blaine try (and fail) to be quiet as they get ready and get their suitcases out the door. He can hear them whispering to each other and hears Kurt hissing at Blaine that they're going to be late. Whatever Blaine's doing, he's not doing it fast enough, and Kurt finally says he's going down to see if he can find a taxi. He tells him to hurry again, and then Sam hears the door the loft slide open and close.

A couple of minutes later, he hears Blaine finally make it out to the common area, and he sits up to watch him struggle with his suitcase. "Need some help?"

Blaine jumps and is obviously caught off-guard as he turns around to look through the darkness to where Sam's standing up. "You scared the crap out of me."

"Sorry." Sam pops his neck when he gets up and glances down to where his phone is plugged in. It's 4:15- way too early to be up. "Do you want some help?" he asks again.

Blaine's obviously struggling with the weight and size of the suitcase, which is kind of dumb because they're only going to be gone five days. It looks like he packed enough for three months. He manages to get it upright, though, and says, "Thanks. I've got it."

"You better hurry. Kurt's about to have a fit."

Blaine kind of rolls his eyes but nods. "Yeah. He thinks we're gonna miss the plane that doesn't leave until 6:55."

"Well, text me when you get there." Sam hates how weird things feel, and he has no idea if it's all one-sided or if Blaine can feel it, too.

"I will. Have a good Christmas."

Sam feels more depressed than ever when he nods and looks down at the floor. "Tell Carole I love her, okay?" He feels almost as bad about missing her for Christmas as he does his real mom. She basically is his second mother, and she's taken care of him for years. He worries about her a lot, and even though she's strong, he knows this holiday's gonna be really rough for her.

Blaine nods, and then he reaches out an arm for an awkward half-hug. It feels weird and nothing at all like all the million comfortable embraces they've had in the past. It feels like hugging a distant acquaintance, not a best friend. It makes Sam feel really sad, and if he's not imagining things, it looks like Blaine is pretty upset, too. But he leaves after that, lugging his giant suitcase out into the hallway with more than a little trouble.

But when the door slides shut behind him, Sam actually feels a touch of relief.

…

Rachel holds true to her promise to show him a "good old-fashioned Jewish Christmas."

The club is closed on Christmas Eve and Christmas, so he works an overnight shift at the hotel and gets back to the loft around 10 AM on Christmas morning. Rachel's already awake and tells him there's no time for naps, so he takes a shower, and gets dressed for whatever she has planned. They eat Chinese food and then go to a movie in the afternoon. She's been dying to see Frozen, and he's been hearing about it for weeks from his newly obsessed little sister, so he's kind of curious as well. It's pretty good, but he's always sort of liked Disney, so that helps. That night, she gets him a front row seat to her show, and he sees it for the first time since dress rehearsals. He feels bad that he missed opening night and hasn't been able to make it since then, but he works all the time, so it's kind of hard. It doesn't matter, though, he sees it then, and she's even more amazing than she was at the rehearsal. After the show, he stands around while she signs autographs and takes pictures with people outside, and then her driver takes them back to Brooklyn. They spend the rest of the night drinking wine and watching _It's a Wonderful Life._

It's fun, but it doesn't really feel like Christmas.

He gets to talk to his family somewhere in between there, and that's the best part of the day. His brother and sister are crazy excited about all the new stuff they got, and he hears in detail about all their presents. Stacy gets on the phone actually _screaming _about the American Girl doll and how much she loves him and how it's the _best Christmas EVER! _He laughs, happy that she's happy, and wishing that it was his best Christmas ever, too. His mom and dad both like their presents, too, and they want to know if he got the package they sent him. He did, and he really likes the stuff they got him, but he wishes they didn't spend money on him. He doesn't need anything, and more than that, he doesn't _deserve _anything.

His parents would be so disappointed in him if they knew the truth. They would hate him. He knows they'd blame themselves and try to figure out how they could raise such a loser, but it's not their fault. They're the best parents in the world. He's just an immoral disappointment, but it's really not their fault. They would be so disgusted, and they wouldn't even be able to look at him. They wouldn't want anything to do with him, and they wouldn't want him around Stacy and Stevie, either. Because what kind of role model is he for those guys? He's not one. At all. He doesn't want either of them to turn out _anything _like him. He doesn't want them to be stupid or worthless or failures at fucking everything. He doesn't want them to go completely against their religion and everything they've ever been taught just to make some money. He wants them to be better than him in every way.

Most of all, though, he doesn't want them to ever hate themselves the way he hates himself.

…

The five days while Kurt and Blaine are in Lima are some of the easiest he's had in months because he feels like he can finally let his guard down a little. Plus, not being around them and actually having to look at them helps him forget all of the painful awkwardness just a little bit. But soon enough, they're back, and it's all right back to the way it was before.

Ever since that night when he sold himself for two-hundred bucks, he's been more confused than ever. It was just a blow job, but he didn't like it at all. It wasn't like some light switched on his brain that made him realize that yes, he's actually gay, and those thoughts he's been having about Blaine actually make sense. No, it wasn't like that at all. It was gross, and he didn't enjoy it. Whatever kind of experiment he thought he was doing on himself basically backfired because he's more confused than ever. The worst part, though, is that it didn't have the opposite effect, either. It didn't make all those thoughts suddenly go away. It maybe even made them worse. He can't help thinking about it- no, about _Blaine- _all the time. He feels like some pervert or something, and he's a thousand percent sure he's officially a creep. People aren't supposed to obsess about their friends that way. It's gross and inappropriate. But the more he tries _not _to think about it, the more obsessed he becomes.

He can't _help _it.

…

Blaine texts him while he's running and asks if he wants to get lunch. He says he can't. He texts him a couple of days later while he's in the coffee shop and tells him he got a new video game and asks if he wants to play. Sam tells him he has to work. Blaine catches him on his way out the door one morning and asks if he wants to hang out later because they haven't chilled in forever. Sam says he'll try but probably won't have time.

He just can't do it.

He can't stand being around him, knowing how bad all the stuff in his head is and how Blaine would hate him if he even knew a little bit of it. He also can't stand being around him and thinking all those thoughts that automatically pop into his head whenever Blaine's around. It's just too hard, and it's better for both of them if they just keep distance between themselves.

But apparently Blaine gets sick of it because he finally corners him in the bathroom one morning and demands an answer.

"Seriously, man. Are you going to tell me what I did or what?"

Sam stops in the middle of brushing his teeth and looks at him through the reflection in the mirror. He manages to mumble, "Whareyoutalkinbout?" through a mouthful of toothpaste without making a huge mess.

"You've been pissed at me for weeks, and I don't even know what I did. I'd really like if you would just tell me what's wrong, so I can figure out how to fix it because you not talking to me sucks."

Sam watches him for a second and then finally spits his toothpaste into the sink. After he rinses his mouth, he grabs a towel and dots at it. "I'm not not talking to you."

"Really? Because every time I say something to you, I barely get an answer, and I can't even remember the last time you started a conversation with me. And heaven forbid you actually want to hang out with me anymore."

"I've just been busy. And I'm stressed out."

"Well, okay, I get that. But you don't seem to be too busy to talk to everyone _but _me. I just want to know what the hell I did."

Sam finally spins around and looks at him. "Stop being so defensive. Not everything's about you."

Blaine just stares at him for a minute. He looks hurt or bothered but not really surprised. Finally, though, he just shakes his head. "Whatever. I tried."

And then he just leaves. Sam hears the front door to the loft slam shut a second later, and he leans back against the sink. Everything's just pure crap.

…

He spends the rest of his day and tries to focus on staying awake because he's literally so tired he can barely keep his eyes open.

He's on room service duty, so he spends most of the day standing around waiting on the phone to ring, but then he gets seven orders within five minutes of each other, and he has to wake up and work.

One lady opens the door in her underwear and flashes him what's probably supposed to be a "shy" smile while she holds the door for him to come in and set up his tray. He's seen all kinds of stuff since he started working at this hotel, so the underwear thing doesn't really faze him. He just sets up her stuff and waits for her to sign the bill.

"I haven't seen you before," she says as she hands the book back to him. "You must be new."

He's always surprised when people are apparently "regulars" of this hotel. He doesn't know how anyone could afford to stay here once, much less multiple times.

"I've been here awhile." He tries to be polite, but he really just wants to get back downstairs and finish the other half of his orders.

"Where are you from? Not from here. I can tell by your accent."

"Tennessee. And Ohio." He never knows which to say when people ask him that question.

"Oh, I've been to Tennessee. I went to a conference in Memphis a few years ago."

"Really?" He's still trying to be polite, but seriously, he has to go. "I've never been there."

She looks surprised by that, but why the hell would he ever go to Memphis? From what he hears, it's just dirty and there's about an eighty percent chance you might get mugged or killed.

She apparently feels differently. "You should go sometime. Beale Street is amazing."

He nods. "I might. Have a good day and let us know if you need anything else."

He leaves then and takes a glance into the book while he waits for the elevator. She left a nice tip, but he's not that surprised. She's definitely not the first woman who's ever tried to flirt with him by giving him some money. In his other job, that's kind of what he banks on.

That doesn't make him feel any better.

…

Blaine hates him.

He stops talking to him altogether, which is good in some ways and really bad in others. It helps out with the whole avoiding thing when the other person isn't willing to speak to you in the first place. So Sam's okay with that. The downside, though, is that it means Blaine's actually pissed. Like for real, and that hurts a lot because no matter what's been going on lately, he's still his best friend. If he doesn't have Blaine, he doesn't have anything. Like he's seriously alone. And that scares the crap out of him.

Kurt and Rachel can obviously tell something's up, and he's sure Kurt's probably heard all about it from Blaine. Rachel probably has, too- at least whatever there is to tell. Probably that Sam's a jerk and is holding some grudge over something that Blaine doesn't even know he did and that Blaine tried to fix things and Sam just shut him down. Something like that, he's sure.

They all start acting weird around him. Obviously they're both on Blaine's side, even though none of them even know why they're taking sides. It sort of pisses Sam off because it's not their business, and he wishes they would stay out of it. More than that, though, he wishes he could just talk to Blaine. He wants to make up with him and just go back to normal and forget all this stupid crap ever happened. But he can't because too much has changed now. It's not fair to Blaine because he has no idea what's going on, but Sam can't tell him, either.

Telling him would be even worse than losing him.

…

He makes the decision on the spur of the moment.

He's got more than enough money saved, and he's making more all the time. There's no point in putting himself through this anymore, not when he doesn't have to. So one day he comes home from the hotel and finds all three of his roommates on the sofa. They look at him, but nobody says anything. Of course they don't.

"I'm moving out."

That makes them all sit up, though, and he can't really tell whether they're happy about this or just surprised. It's Rachel, unsurprisingly, who speaks first. "When did you decide that?"

"On the way home." It's not a lie. He passed a real estate guide on the way to the train and thought it the entire ride.

"You don't have to move out." It _is _a little surprising when Kurt says that.

Sam, though, just nods and tries to leave his face as expressionless as possible. "I know. But I'm making enough money now. I can get out of the way."

"Sam, you're not in the way." It's Rachel again. "This is a very expensive city."

"Yeah, I'm aware." He wonders if she literally thinks he's stupid.

"Just… Don't do anything drastic. You're fine here."

But he shakes his head. "I need my own space. You guys need yours." They're all still giving him weird looks, so he adds, "I'll give y'all another month's worth of bills. But I'm gonna go ahead and start looking."

He sits down then, and there's a really terrible awkward silence that surrounds them. At least the television is drowning some of it out. Otherwise, he might actually go crazy.

…

He accidentally sleeps late because he's so exhausted that he can't force himself to wake up.

When he finally does, the sun's all the way up, and the apartment is totally silent. Obviously everybody else is already out for the morning, so he uses the rare opportunity of having the place to himself to take an extra long shower and then cook an actual breakfast. He makes scrambled egg whites and a protein shake and sits down at the table for some alone time.

It doesn't last very long.

Apparently Blaine only has class in the morning or something because he shows back up before Sam's halfway done with breakfast. It's instantly weird, and the tension in the air is pretty thick. Sam knows it's not just one-sided now, too, and his face feels hot when he sees Blaine looking at him, obviously trying to decide whether he's going to speak.

He doesn't. After a few seconds of awkwardness, he moves through the kitchen area and heads to his room. Sam can hear him taking his coat off and putting his things away. He eats the last couple bites of eggs and then goes to wash his plate off real fast so he can leave. He doesn't have anywhere to be, but he doesn't want to be around here.

He's lacing his shoes up, though, when Blaine obviously changes his mind and comes back out. It's pretty clear from his face that he's on some kind of mission or something, and Sam just sits on the couch, shoes half finished, and waits for him to say something.

"Are you moving out because of me?" Blaine sounds mostly hateful when he asks the question, but also kind of determined.

Sam keeps his eyes slightly lowered and says, "No. I'm moving out because it's too crowded, and nobody wants me here."

"Bullshit." Blaine doesn't cuss a ton, so it sounds pretty harsh coming out of his mouth. "Stop trying to put this on us. Nobody did anything to you."

"Why are you being such an asshole?" And now Sam's pretty pissed, too, and he doesn't bother keeping his eyes lowered anymore.

"Because you've been an asshole to me for months! And when I actually tried to talk to you about it and find out what I did so I could fix it or apologize or _something, _you totally blew me off!"

"Because you didn't _do _anything, Blaine! I already freaking told you that."

"Then what is your problem?" Blaine's not backing down at all. "Why do you hate me all of a sudden?"

"I don't _hate _you!"

"Then what the hell is going on? Because I thought we were supposed to be best friends."

Sam gives up on his shoes and leans back against the couch. He feels really… defeated maybe. He's just tired. So all he does is say, "We are…"

Blaine's obviously not having it, though, because he shakes his head. "Obviously we're not, or you wouldn't be acting like this. You would tell me what the hell's going on with you. Because I don't know if it's _me _or something else… But something is up. And you obviously don't trust me enough to tell me what it is."

"I _do _trust you, but I can't tell you."

"Why not?"

Sam looks at the wall because he can't bear to look at Blaine. "Because it's bad."

There's a couple of seconds of silence, but then Blaine sits down on the coffee table directly across from him. His voice isn't so harsh anymore when he says, "You can tell me anything."

Sam shakes his head. He doesn't want him to know, but there's another part of him that needs to talk to him so badly he can't stand it. "I… It's bad."

"Sam. Whatever it is, I swear you can trust me." And Blaine sounds so sincere that Sam doesn't even realize his eyes are tearing up until Blaine says, "Don't cry."

"I was just confused," he finally mumbles, and he spends all his effort trying not to let those tears actually fall.

"Confused about what?"

Sam closes his eyes, focusing on getting them under control and dry. He tells himself over and over again to get it together and not to cry. Finally, he opens them and very quietly says, "How did you know you were gay?"

Blaine just looks at him, and he almost seems offended or something when he says, "How did you know you were straight?" in a really pointed way that's obviously supposed to mean something.

But all Sam says is, "I _don't _know I'm straight…"

He can't look at Blaine right away because saying it out loud doesn't give him that rush of freedom that he was expecting. It feels horrible, to be totally honest, and he wonders what kind of idiot he really is when he can't even figure something that should be as totally obvious as this out. Blaine doesn't say a word, and when Sam finally gets the balls up to look at him, he's just staring- confusion all over his face as well.

"What… What?"

Sam wants to look away again, but he forces himself not to. He's too far in to back out now, so he says, "I've just been… thinking. About… stuff." He doesn't know how to explain it, and he knows he sounds like a dumbass. "Like, I don't want to think about it, but I do anyway…"

"What kind of stuff?"

Sam's never felt like more of a loser in his life, which is saying a lot. But he just feels so _stupid. _"Like about… sex, I guess."

"Okay…" Blaine sounds super confused. "So why is that a bad thing?"

Sam can feel his face heating up. This isn't the first time they've talked about sex, but this isn't the way it normally goes at all. He's so _embarrassed. _"Because it's not normal," he finally says. "Not for me."

"Sam, everyone thinks about sex…"

"I'm thinking about guys," he finally just blurts it out. "That's not normal for me." He's really not thinking about _guys- _he's thinking about _a _guy. But there's no way he can say that.

Blaine's just staring at him, and it's really obvious that he has no idea what to say or how to react. Sam feels like some kind of freak of nature or something because clearly Blaine's too shocked to have any kind of reaction whatsoever. He's just staring like he's in some kind of daze or something.

"I'm not gay." Sam can't take the silence, so he keeps talking. "I know I'm not. I like girls. I don't know what's going on."

Blaine swallows and sits up a little straighter like he's getting his composure together or something. After a couple of seconds, he finally gets some words together. "You're just curious… It doesn't mean anything." He's obviously trying really hard to act like this isn't a huge deal. "You're beating yourself up over nothing. It's really not a big deal."

"I sucked some random guy's dick."

Blaine stares at him. He doesn't say anything, and it's pretty obvious that he's shocked. Like really shocked. And probably disgusted, and he doesn't even know half of it. Sam feels the tears stinging his eyes, and he tries to tell himself to suck it up and not cry, but that's a lot easier said than done.

Blaine finally manages to get something out, but the only thing he says is, "What… Who?"

Sam feels sick, like he might throw up or something. He's been feeling that way a lot lately, but it hits him all in a wave right now. He just shakes his head because he doesn't want to talk about this anymore. Saying it out loud feels even worse than he imagined, and he can literally feel himself losing more and more by the second.

"Sam…" Blaine's voice sounds worried and confused. He leans forward to rest his elbows on his knees. "You can tell me anything."

The tears that have been threatening his eyes finally break free and spill down his cheeks. Sam tries to wipe them away, but it's really no use. He trusts Blaine more than he trusts anyone, and he hears himself spilling the whole- well, _most- _of the story before he can stop himself.

"I don't know who he was. He was just at the club, and he asked me if… He gave me two-hundred bucks. And I just wanted to know what it was like… But I hated it, and now I don't know what the hell is going on because I still keep having these thoughts, and-"

"He _paid _you?" Blaine cuts him off, and Sam can hear the disgust in his voice. He knows without having to ask that Blaine hates him now, even though he really can't hate him more than Sam hates himself.

Sam can't answer him. Instead, he just squeezes his eyes shut and feels more tears leak out when he nods. He's crying harder now, and the more he tells himself to stop, the more it seems

to backfire. He doesn't open his eyes, but he feels Blaine get up. He knows he's probably leaving because he can't stand to be around him or look at him. He probably wants to get away before he says whatever's on his mind, which is probably really terrible but true.

But then he feels the couch shift a little bit, and Blaine isn't leaving, he's just moving to sit beside him. An arm goes around his shoulder, and Sam's first instinct is to shrug it away because he doesn't feel like he deserves it, but he can't do that because he needs it, no matter how much he doesn't deserve it.

"Sam…" Blaine obviously still doesn't know what to say, but he pulls him a little closer. "Don't cry," he says quietly. "Please." When it has no effect, he squeezes Sam's shoulder a little bit and says, "It's okay."

"No, it's not," and Sam's head snaps up when he finally forces himself to talk. "That… I swore I'd never do that again, but I did. And now I'm just…" He doesn't even know what he wants to say.

"You've done it before?" Blaine sounds surprised, but Sam shakes his head.

"Not that… For money, I mean. I've done stuff for money before, and I swore I wouldn't do it again, but I did. And-"

"When did you do it before?" Blaine's arm is still around him, but it feels tenser now.

Sam doesn't want to tell this story, either, because he's somehow managed to romanticize it in his head so that it doesn't seem as bad as it really was. Acknowledging what really happened forces him to admit a whole bunch of stuff he'd rather ignore. But he's just tired.

"In Kentucky," he finally mumbles. "A woman paid me… That was my first time."

"The first time someone paid you?"

Sam shakes his head again. "Ever."

He can see everything falling into place in Blaine's head as he puts the pieces together. There's a really heavy silence hanging over them, and Sam tries to read his face, but he can't. He's sure Blaine's even more disgusted than ever, knowing that he basically sold his virginity off to the first taker.

"I needed the money." He's trying to justify it, just so he can stop feeling like such a whore. But it's the truth- he _did _need the money. "We were about to get our electric cut off, and some kids were giving my brother shit because his shoes were about to fall apart, and-"

He cuts himself off when Blaine hugs him. The other arm comes up around him, and he pulls Sam to him. He doesn't say anything, and Sam doesn't have a clue what's going through his head, but he pulls him a little tighter, and Sam would be lying if he said it wasn't the best feeling in the world. He still feels terrible, but he feels _safe. _And then he starts crying even harder than before. Blaine still doesn't say anything, but he just holds him and lets him cry. Every once in awhile, he'll run a hand over Sam's head or down his neck, and he doesn't need to say anything.

The door to the loft slides open all of a sudden, and Sam moves a little too slowly to detangle himself from Blaine. He doesn't look at the door because he's embarrassed. He tries to wipe his cheeks, but it's pointless, and he cringes when he hears Kurt say, "What's going on…"

Blaine shakes his head, and Sam sees him do this thing with his hand that's like a shooing motion or something. It takes a second, but obviously Kurt gets the message or something because the door opens and closes again when he leaves.

Sam stares at the coffee table. His mouth his dry, and his throat hurts all of a sudden. "Please don't tell him," and it comes out as barely a whisper.

"Sam." Blaine says his name in a way that makes him look over. He's staring at him very seriously. "I won't tell anyone. I swear."

He believes him. He knows he won't tell. They're staring at each other, and that heavy silence is back. Blaine's looking at him with these eyes that… They're beautiful. And Sam hates himself for even noticing because it's not his place to notice. Those aren't his eyes to call beautiful, and he shouldn't be missing Blaine's arms around him the way that he is. His head's a mess, and his eyes are stinging while everything else on him seems to hurt. He wants to go back to two minutes ago when he felt safe and comfortable when Blaine was holding him. He wants to tell Blaine the whole truth- that it's _him. _But he can't. Because that's not his place.

But before he can stop himself, he's leaning forward just a little bit. And then he kisses him. He just barely presses his lips against Blaine's and stays there for a few seconds just feeling it. But a few seconds is all it lasts because Blaine's pulling his head away and putting distance between them.

"Don't… do that." His lips are parted just a little bit, and he seems dazed. Sam can tell he has no idea what's going on.

"Shit." He hates himself all over again. What the hell is _wrong _with him? Seriously, what the _hell? _"I'm sorry… I…" He tries to come up with something, but he can't.

Blaine blinks and shakes his head. "It's okay." It's obviously not. "Just… Don't."

"I'm sorry," he apologizes again. "Fuck." He gets up without thinking anymore about it because he can't stay here. Not after that. He can't just _be _here when he just ruined _everything. _He grabs his coat and pulls it on, checking his pockets for his phone and wallet. "I've got to go."

"Sam, wait." Blaine stands up to stop him, but he's already out the door. He can't be there for one more second.

He takes the stairs instead of the elevator, running down them at full-speed. And when he tumbles out the front door, he barely even notices how cold it is. He has no idea where he's going, but he has to get out of there. He doesn't know what the hell is wrong with him, but he knows Blaine hates him right now. He hates him, and he _obviously _doesn't want anything to do with him. Definitely not that way at least. Why is he so fucking _stupid? _He should have just kept his mouth shut and not told all of his secrets. He definitely should have had a brain in his damn head that could tell him _not _to kiss his best friend who's engaged to someone else.

He's an idiot. He's an idiot, _and _he's a whore.

And now he's lost the one thing in this stupid fucking city that _ever _made sense.

…

…

…

A/N: So there are more than 3 parts. I obviously suck at predicting how long stuff is going to run, so… Hope you enjoyed this, and thanks to everyone who has left reviews!


	4. Chapter 4

**JUST MISSED THE TRAIN**

**Part IV**

…

…

…

Blaine never mentions it.

Sam goes right back to ignoring everyone while he browses through Craigslist and the classifieds trying to find a new place to live. He can't even look at Blaine anymore, much less talk to him. He hates himself, and he's a hundred percent sure Blaine hates him now, too, seeing as how he crossed all kinds of lines in the matter of a few seconds. Blaine doesn't push it. He doesn't try to talk to him and tell him how he's overreacting or that it's no big deal. He just leaves it alone. And leaves Sam alone in the process.

It's worse than ever, though. It literally hurts to be around him, and whenever he sees him, all he can think about is how he's ruined the best thing in his life. More than that, though, he hates that Blaine obviously feels uncomfortable around him now, not that he can blame him, though. He was totally in the wrong, and he should never have kissed him. Blaine is engaged. He's getting married. He's not available, and that's that. Period. It was totally out of line to do that, and Sam knows it. He still can't believe he even did it, but he just felt… vulnerable. Or something. It just seemed natural.

But it wasn't. Even if it _could _have been, it wasn't. Because Blaine's not available. And Sam just needs to get that through his head and forget it. It doesn't matter how natural it felt or how… Whatever, it doesn't matter.

But it _does _matter because Sam can't just pretend now. He can ignore Blaine and avoid him, but he can't pretend anymore. It was the shortest kiss in existence, but it _meant _something. And those few seconds made things clearer to Sam than they'd ever been before, and now he knows.

He's in love with his best friend.

He doesn't know how or why that happened. But he's never felt like this before- not any of the hundred other times he's thought he was in love. He's always had a problem with that, falling for people way harder than they ever fell for him. But with Blaine, it's like he doesn't even know _when _he fell. He just knows that somehow he became the only person (outside of his family anyway) who means _anything _in Sam's life. And that's why it's physically painful to be around him and not be able to do anything about it.

But what can he do? He can't do anything because anything he did would only make things worse. He's already ruined so much, and he can't make it even harder than it already is. It's not fair to Blaine. He's not gonna ruin Blaine's life, too, just because his own is fucked up. It's not fair, and he cares about him too much to do that. So for now, he just ignores him.

Because that's way easier than pretending there's nothing there.

…

He tries to stay gone as much as he can, but it's impossible to stay completely out of the loft all the time. He's around sometimes, and he can't help noticing things. He sees things he shouldn't see and really has no right noticing- like Kurt and Blaine not really getting along all that well.

Kurt seems constantly annoyed by Blaine, and Blaine seems so rattled that he just lets himself be a punching bag. Sam knows it's because he feels guilty, but he still hates seeing Blaine just sit there and let Kurt talk to him like he's a kid or something. It seems like any time Blaine opens his mouth, Kurt has some immediate snarky comeback or he just shuts him down all together and tells him to be quiet. Blaine just lets him, too, and Sam can't stand it, but what can he do about it? It's all his fault anyway that Blaine probably feels like he _deserves _to be treated that way in the first place.

So he just bites his tongue because there's no way he's getting involved.

…

He thinks he finds a pretty awesome deal on an apartment.

There's already one resident, but it's a two bedroom place, and the rent is right in his price range. He finds it on Craigslist and meets up with the current renter so they can see if they mesh okay. It's this guy named Carlos who's been in New York his whole life but only recently moved out of his parents' place and started living on his own.

The apartment is pretty awesome. It's about the same size as the loft, but there are actual walls and doors that actually give off some sense of privacy. It's going to be more expensive than what he's paying now because he'll be dropping from three roommates down to one, but seriously, he makes plenty of money, so he can afford it. Best of all, though, it's in Harlem, which is super far away from Bushwick and everything he's trying to avoid. He'll actually have an excuse to avoid them, and nobody can blame him.

Carlos seems okay. He's kind of quiet, but he says he's trying to break into hip hop or something. He records with some of his friends, and apparently they sell their CDs to tourists in Times Square or something. He says they make okay off of it, but not enough that he can quit his job at his uncle's bodega. Sam really doesn't care where he works as long as he does, just because he doesn't want to get stuck with a hundred percent of the bills all the time.

He tells Carlos he's interested and that he'll give him a definite answer by the end of the week. There are a couple of other places he wants to check out, but this one is pretty perfect, so it'll probably be a yes. Everything about it seems pretty awesome, and really, he's just eager to get out, so it's not like he's super picky.

…

His agent calls him out of the blue on Wednesday and tells him he's got an audition that afternoon for this store in Mahattan that like formal clothes or something. Sam's never heard of it, but Sherry tells him to go clean-shaven and semi-casual to look "as young as possible." Apparently they're getting ready to shoot their prom ads for spring, and he fits the description of what they're looking for perfectly.

He's excited, like really excited. He's only been on a couple of calls the whole time he's been in New York, and none of them have worked out. But his agent sounds pretty confident about this one, so it makes him think that maybe he's actually got a shot this time.

He has to call into the hotel, and his boss isn't happy. Sam tells him that he's sick, but all he gets back is an irritated, "Do you plan to be here tomorrow?" Sam says yes, but he makes sure to add in a fake cough to make the whole story more believable.

The audition is actually in the store, so he googles it and gets on a train to the Upper West Side. It's just a small store, but he can look in the window and tell that they do pretty good business and also that everything is super expensive.

The whole thing goes pretty awesome actually. He meets with this woman who says she's the head of marketing or something. She talks to him for a few minutes and then says she wants to see him in some suits, so she calls this other lady over to bring her like five different tuxes in his size and then sends him into one of the dressing rooms. He's not shy about his body at all (how could he be?), so it's not weird for him to have these women dressing him and fixing his clothes and basically staring down every inch of him.

They do that for about half an hour, and everything is all pretty low-key and kind of different than the other calls he's been on. When they're done, they're really nice and tell him they'll be in touch. He has tentative hope when he leaves the store, but it kind of sucks that he doesn't really have anybody he can go celebrate with.

Instead, he ends up texting his mom because at least she'll be excited.

…

He finds out later that same night that he's booked it.

His agent calls him with the good news and also tells him that the store is participating in a bridal expo in two weeks and wants to use him in their fashion show. So essentially, he books print and runway in the same day. Yeah, neither one of them is the big time or anything, but it's still _something. _It's still way more than he's done so far, and he can't even begin to pretend like he's not super excited.

He's so excited that he has to tell someone. He gets the call while he's at the club, and he tells some of the guys there. They all seem pretty happy for him because overall, they're mostly nice enough. He wouldn't exactly call them _friends _or anything, but they're cool. He wants to tell his real friends, though, so for once, he's actually glad that everyone's still awake when he gets home.

"I got a modeling job!" He hasn't even gotten his coat off before he's bursting out with the news.

Everyone stops watching TV and looks at him. Rachel's got a giant smile when she says, "That's great, Sam!" and jumps up to hug him. He hugs her back and doesn't even think about the fact that he's really barely spoken to any of them in weeks. "What is it?"

"It's like this formalwear store called Chi-Chi's. I'm gonna be in their prom ads, and then in like a couple of weeks, I'm also gonna do their fashion show at this wedding expo or something!"

"That's amazing!" Rachel still seems super excited and smiley.

It's Blaine that gets his attention, though, when he says, "That's really great, Sam." Sam looks at him and makes eye contact with him for the first time in forever, and Blaine's got this smile on his face that's nowhere near as excited as Rachel's but still seems really genuine anyway.

It feels weird and slightly painful to return it, but he does anyway.

…

He shouldn't be shocked that the second something finally goes right, something else falls to shit.

He hates the other apartments he looks into, so he texts Carlos on Thursday and tells him he's definitely in. He doesn't get any answer, so a few hours later, he texts him again. Still no answer. Finally, he goes to work and calls him from one of the phones there. Carlos actually answers, but when Sam tells him that he's ready to move in, he gets an awkward silence and then, "I'm really sorry, but somebody else wanted it this morning, so I told him he could have it."

And just like that, his hope of getting out is totally crushed.

…

The whole Chi-Chi's thing happens super fast, and he's showing up for the photoshoot that same weekend.

It's at some studio downtown, and since it's his very first job, he doesn't really know what to expect. He has to be there at 7:30 in the morning, though, so he wakes up early, showers, and heads over to make sure he's not late. When he gets there, nobody really pays much attention to him. There are a bunch of people walking around and messing with like lights and equipment and stuff. There's a table set up with fruit and muffins and some yogurt and stuff that's apparently free breakfast, but Sam ignores it because the last thing he needs is some post-meal pudge ruining his first shot at modeling.

Somebody finally notices him and takes him to a makeup table where they push him into a chair, and two women immediately attack him- one with makeup and one to his hair. They make small talk with him, but it's super obvious that they're only there to get their paychecks and don't really care about how cold it's been lately. They all live in the same city. They freaking _know _how cold it is. Pretty soon, there are other people in the chairs around him, and the hair and makeup people start moving back and forth between them. There's just one other dude, but there are six girls. The girls obviously take a ton more time with their prom hair and makeup, so Sam kind of gets forgotten in his seat for awhile. It's awkward, but he just sits there and messes around on his phone so he doesn't look like a total idiot.

Eventually he gets pulled over to a rack of clothes that holds like a thousand dresses and a hundred tuxes. They're separated out, and he sees a white piece of paper at the front of one section that says _S. Evans _and has a whole bunch of numbers that he figures out are his measurements. Before he knows it, he's down to his underwear right there in front of everyone, and he's being poured into a white tux with a hot pink bowtie that reminds him way too much of somebody he's mostly been trying to forget.

The shoot takes a few hours. First it's just the guys while the girls are still busy with their hair and makeup. Then they add in the girls, and it's all eight of them in all kinds of random combinations and in several different wardrobe changes. He doesn't know how much of any of this stuff costs, but all the clothes look pretty expensive to him. It's fun, though. They start blasting some music, and basically just let them have fun and play around for some candid shots in between the ones where they're obviously actually supposed to be selling the clothes.

One of the girls that he's in mid-dip with laughs and tells him that she hopes they hurry up because she has an essay to write and needs to get home.

"Are you in college?"

She shakes her head, and he lets her up and twirls her under his arm. "High school."

"Oh." She doesn't really look like high school at all to him. "Are you about to graduate?"

She shakes her head. "No, I'm just a freshman."

What? Seriously? "Wow," is all he can say, and she laughs again- he can't tell if it's for the camera's benefit or for his.

"I'm fourteen."

What the _hell? _She looks twenty-five! She's like almost six feet tall and doesn't look like any fourteen year old he's ever seen. As the shoot goes on, he realizes he's the oldest one here. One of the other girls is eighteen, too, but she's still in high school. They all look crazy old, and they're all _working. _He can't imagine what his parents would have said if he told them he wanted to go work as a model or anything else when he was fourteen. That's nuts to him. But it makes him wonder if he's too old to be starting this.

That's crazy. Eighteen shouldn't be too old for _anything, _but he knows modeling careers are super short-lived. Maybe he's already reaching his expiration date.

…

He doesn't mean to eavesdrop.

Honestly, it's kind of hard not to when he comes home and can hear fighting through the door. Blaine and Kurt are in there arguing, and even though he should probably just turn around and leave, he stops and listens. Mostly he's just nosey, but he also has a really bad feeling.

The door's apparently not thick enough to block much of anything out- especially when their voices are raised and almost yelling.

"Why are you acting like this?"

"Why am _I _acting like this?!" Kurt sounds pissed. "Maybe you should figure out why _you're _acting like this!"

"I'm not doing anything! You're just being crazy for no reason!"

Sam's no genius, but he knows enough about relationships to know that calling someone crazy is never really a smart move. Apparently he's right.

"Oh, I have a reason alright! Maybe if my _fiancé _wasn't more concerned with another man's feelings than he is with mine, I might not be so crazy!"

"Stop bringing Sam into it! He doesn't have anything to do with it!"

Sam has no idea what they're talking about, but it obviously involves him, so he doesn't feel as bad for eavesdropping anymore. All he does is move closer to the door so he can hear better.

"He has everything to do with it! He's been acting weird for months now, and you're so concerned with that that you literally don't pay attention to _anything _else."

"That's not true."

"Yes, it is! He's totally ignoring you, and you can't stand it because you're obsessed with him!"

"I'm not obsessed with Sam!"

"Yes, you are!" Kurt isn't even attempting to be quiet anymore. "If you weren't, you wouldn't be keeping secrets from me!"

There's a few seconds of silence after that, and Sam has to strain to hear what Blaine says next. "I'm not telling you his business. Stop asking."

"Because you're keeping secrets."

"Sam is my best friend. I don't care what's going on- if he tells me something private, I'm not going to repeat it. Period." Blaine sounds pissed for real. "I'm not breaking his trust for anyone. No matter who it is."

"Well, maybe that's your first mistake," and Kurt sounds pretty pissed, too. "Because I'm pretty sure _I'm _supposed to be your best friend."

Sam leaves after that. He doesn't want to hear what Blaine says back, and he doesn't want to know any more of what's happening between them. It's really not his business, and he doesn't know how to feel. Part of him wants to be pissed, but another part of him feels guilty. He doesn't know which is right.

He just knows he doesn't want to hear any more.

…

He goes to work and leaves as soon as the show's over. He's been avoiding the privates for awhile, and it's easier to just skip out as soon as possible than to actually resist the potential extra cash when it's right in front of him.

But when he gets outside, there's something else right in front of him that obviously can't be good for him.

"Nice show." Blaine's leaning against a newspaper box, clearly waiting for him.

"You saw it?" Now he feels weird, and he really has no idea what's going on.

"I figured coming here was the only way I could corner you and force you to talk to me." Sam doesn't know what to say to that, so he just kind of stands there and looks at him. "But yeah, it was interesting. The part with the firemen and the pussycats was a little unrealistic, though."

Sam can't help the smile that cracks onto his face. "You didn't feel like a perv being in there by yourself?"

Blaine just shrugs. "A little. But I don't know those people."

They start walking away from the club, and the first thing Sam notes is how comfortable it is. For the first time in however long, he just feels like his guard is down, and he's just hanging out doing nothing. He and Blaine used to joke around all the time, but lately, it seems like everything has been too serious and they haven't even been able to hang out, much less tease each other.

"You hungry?" Sam looks over at him as they walk down one of the side streets toward the train.

Blaine says he could eat, so they end up in this little deli that's not crowded at all. It's after midnight, though, and this isn't a hugely touristy area or anything, so that's not really shocking. They go inside and sit down at this booth in the back. Neither one of them have ever been here, but it's not hard to find something they want on a menu that's literally just sandwiches with a couple of ice cream desserts and fried appetizers.

"You never said how the modeling thing went." Blaine folds up his menu and puts it back behind the ketchup bottles and napkin holders after the server leaves their table.

"I think I'm too old to be a model."

Blaine looks confused, so Sam tells him the whole story about the twenty-five year old looking fourteen year olds and how he was the oldest one there. Blaine seems a little confused, but just like always, he has some words of wisdom at the end.

"Well, that shoot is supposed to be for teenagers. And about teenagers. I'm sure they're not all like that."

Sam's briefly considered that, but it's still weird, especially since half of those kids looked older than him.

"And," Blaine goes on, "maybe that's a good thing. Apparently they think you still look young enough for a high school shoot, but they _also _think you can pull off wedding stuff. So maybe your age range is pretty large. That can only work to your advantage, right?"

Sam hadn't thought about that, but it makes sense. And really, he's not dumb enough to think that modeling is going to be some lifelong career. He knows eventually he's going to outgrow it- or at least out_age _it- but he's willing to try to get as much out of it as he can in the meantime.

"How are things at NYADA?" He turns the tables, partly because he doesn't want to talk about himself anymore and partly because he knows Blaine's been having a rough time at school. He feels bad because he hasn't been around to give him someone to vent to or whatever, but maybe he can make up for at least some of that now.

Blaine doesn't immediately frown and look down on himself, though, which is definitely an improvement over how he normally looks when the topid of NYADA is approached. "It's okay." Okay is not great, but at least it's not horrible. "I think it's getting a little better. I talked to a few of my teachers, and they've been helping me."

"You don't think everybody hates you anymore?"

"Well, they definitely don't _love _me, but no, I don't think it's necessarily hate anymore."

They get their drinks, and Sam wishes almost immediately that he'd ordered something besides water. Blaine's got a giant Dr. Pepper in front of him, and even though soda's really bad for you and not something Sam ever really drinks, it looks kind of amazing at the moment. He thinks about asking Blaine for a sip, but he doesn't. The last thing he needs is to get some kind of instant addiction that ends up leaving him bloated from empty calories and carbonation. So he just drinks his water and tries not to think about it.

They talk for a few more minutes about school and work and random stuff, but then Blaine changes the subject. He's quiet for a couple of seconds, and then he says, "Kurt's pissed at me."

Sam doesn't know what to say- mostly because he already _knows _that. It's not like he can come out and admit to eavesdropping, though, so he plays dumb. "Why is he pissed?"

"I don't know. He keeps saying I'm too distracted from our relationship and that I don't put in as much as he does or something." That's not exactly what Sam was expecting to hear. "But I just feel like I try all the freaking time, and nothing I do is ever good enough."

"So why are you with him?"

Sam surprises even himself when he bluntly asks the obvious. He didn't really mean to come out and say it like that, but there it is. Blaine just looks at him, and it's like they're both trying to decide if there's any double-meaning there or anything. Finally, Blaine answers the question.

"Because I love him."

"Oh." Sam just looks down at his water and doesn't say anything else.

Apparently that's not good enough for Blaine, though, because he keeps pressing a little bit. "You know I love him. We're getting married."

Sam's not sure what all that's about. It's like Blaine is purposely telling him this stuff so that he doesn't get any dumb ideas or anything, but it's all stuff Sam already knows. He doesn't need to hear it reiterated or whatever. But he still gives his opinion.

"He talks to you like you're a kid."

Blaine actually seems kind of pissed at that, and his face hardens just a little. "No, he doesn't. And if he does, it's because he thinks I'm hiding something."

"Aren't you?"

"What are you talking about?"

"Well, he was there that day." He doesn't specify which day because they both know exactly which day he's talking about. "I'm sure he wants to know what the hell it was about."

He's talking specifically about Kurt walking in while he was crying- _not _about what happened afterward. But maybe he's talking a little about that, too.

"I told you I wouldn't tell anyone, and I haven't." Blaine doesn't really address the issue, but at least he confirms that he _has _been hiding something. He doesn't seem to think it counts, though, since it's not technically his to hide.

"I'm sure it still bothers him. That you're keeping secrets from him."

Blaine shrugs, though, and Sam's honestly surprised. "If it does, that's his problem."

"Thank you," he says seriously. "For not telling."

Blaine shakes his head like it's no big deal, and maybe it's not. The server shows back up with their sandwiches in record time, but it's not like it's busy in here or anything. She leaves their food and disappears again, and it's one of those times when Sam can just tell they probably won't see her again until she brings the bill.

They eat in silence for a little while. Sam's not really that hungry- at least not like he thought he was. He's not sure Blaine's hungry at all because they both just pick at their sandwiches and take random small bites here and there. There's a weird awkward silence around them, and Sam honestly just wants to get the check and go home. But everything gets put on hold when Blaine finally stops pretending to eat and just looks at him.

"Why did you kiss me?"

Sam doesn't know what to say. He could tell the truth and make things even worse. Or he could lie to keep the peace and make the divide between them even wider. Nothing he says is going to be right because what he _did _wasn't right. He was way out of line, and he knows it. If he could take it back… Well, he's not sure what he would do.

In the end, he just says, "I just wanted to see what it was like," and focuses on picking apart his sandwich some more.

"Sam, do you really think that…" Blaine lowers his voice a little bit. "Are you seriously confused?"

Sam just lifts a shoulder and still doesn't make eye contact. He doesn't know the answer to that, and he feels a little embarrassed for being so totally freaking clueless about his own life.

"I was confused once, too. Remember when I thought I liked making out with Rachel?" Blaine's obviously trying to throw some humor into this to make it less weird, but it's not really working.

"I didn't like it." Sam finally looks up. "When I was with that dude. I didn't like it."

"Okay…" Blaine looks like he's thinking about something. He's obviously hesitating before he says, "Did you like it the first time you did something like that in a strip club? In Kentucky?"

He didn't. It was weird and kind of gross, but he was a virgin and had no clue what he was doing. He also couldn't stop thinking about how he was definitely going to hell and how God was definitely going to hate him. He doesn't think about God or hell too much these days, though.

"No," he admits. "But that's because I didn't know what the hell I was doing."

"But you don't hate sex."

Sam has no idea where Blaine's going, and he just gives him a WTF look. "No…"

"You liked it with Brittany, right?"

"Well, yeah. I mean, I'm not dead."

"Because Brittany wasn't using you."

Sam doesn't have much to say to that except, "Really? Because it kind of feels like she was using the hell out of me…"

Blaine frowns, and Sam knows he's crossing into some serious self-pity territory. Blaine's one of the only people in the world who can spot that and shut it down, and he does when he shakes his head. "You cared about her. And she cared about you. That's what made it different than those other times when you didn't even know who you were with. Those people were using you, and it's honestly not surprising that you didn't enjoy it."

Maybe he's making sense, but it doesn't really matter because it's already happened, and Sam can't go back and change any of it. "It doesn't matter. I already did it. And I'm not gay."

"Okay, then." Blaine just shrugs and pushes a napkin over his plate. "But if you honestly feel confused, you shouldn't just ignore it."

"I'm not confused!" And Sam's voice gets a little bit louder than he means for it to. "I'm not gay." How many times does he have to say it?

Blaine pulls his lower lip in and just does a quick nod before he concentrates on draining the rest of his water. Sam wonders if he's been too snappy or something, if Blaine feels uncomfortable now. He feels bad because he doesn't want Blaine thinking he's done anything wrong. Sam's very well aware of the fact that Blaine thinks he's helping and actually _wants _to help. He's the only person in the world- besides maybe his parents- who has ever taken the time to ever sit Sam down and force him to face his own issues. Sam recognizes that, and that's why he finally decides to tell the truth.

"I kissed you because you're the one I've been thinking about."

Blaine stops with his drink looks up, straight at him. He doesn't immediately say anything, and Sam wonders how much worse he's just made things. He didn't think they could get much worse, but maybe he was really wrong. His face feels hot, and he's sure it's bright red, but Blaine doesn't mention it.

"Thinking about me… _how?"_

Blaine knows how. He's like the furthest thing from dumb that it's possible to be. He's not stupid- he knows exactly _how. _But either he's just too scared to assume things, or he really just wants to make Sam suffer. He chooses to believe it's the first.

"When I was thinking about guys…" This is really freaking weird, and he doesn't even know what to say. "I was thinking about… you. So that's why I kissed you."

There's another long silence, and he can see all the words settling over Blaine, like he's really taking his time to comprehend them and force them to make sense. Sam wishes he could force them to make sense in his own brain, but he's been trying for months with no luck. His stomach hurts in a really weird way, and he can feel his chest get a little tighter. It's like… Now that the words are out there, nothing he can do can make them disappear. He can't take them back or make it into some joke like he was just kidding. He wasn't kidding, and he really doesn't even want to be.

"I'm sorry," he says finally because he just wants to say _something _and get rid of the awful silence. "I know it was wrong and like… I know I shouldn't have done it, but…" He doesn't even know but what.

Blaine finally shakes his head, just a tiny bit. "You shouldn't have done it," he agrees, and his voice is super low and serious.

"I know, and I'm sorry." He thinks he's probably sorry. He really can't even tell. Maybe not sorry that he kissed him, but definitely sorry that he made him so uncomfortable. "I just… Everything's been so messed up in my head."

Blaine still doesn't look like he knows what to say. Sam can't tell what he's thinking, like if he's pissed or not, and he feels bad for putting him in such an awkward situation. He opens his mouth to apologize again, but Blaine cuts him off.

"You can't help it," he mumbles, and Sam barely understands him. "What your head thinks up. I know."

It's not just his head thinking up things. It's a lot more than that, but he doesn't say it. He knows what Blaine's talking about and how he knows firsthand. He can't help thinking about how different all of this would be if he would have come to this revelation last year- back when he actually had a shot but was too wrapped up in a girl who would leave just like all the other ones. He would have at least had a shot. Blaine probably wouldn't have chosen him in the end- no one ever does- but until Kurt came back into the picture, they could at least have had something without having to feel like horrible people. Well, Blaine shouldn't feel like a horrible person now, but Sam definitely does.

He owes it to Blaine to at least give him some kind of explanation, even if he still hasn't figured it out himself. "I don't know what's going on," he admits quietly, and it's hard to even make eye contact, but he tries. "I just… I think I just miss us." He sounds like a total freaking girl, but he can't figure out how else to explain it. "Last year was so different, and we just… You were always there. And I just got used to it. And now it just feels like you're here, but… you're not."

"I'm still here, Sam."

He shakes his head a little and looks down at the table. "I know it's dumb. But you're like…" His brain and his mouth never work together the way they're supposed to. "You're my best friend, and you're like the only person who even knows me… I just don't want you to stop being my best friend."

"I'll always be your best friend."

He doesn't expect it to hurt the way it does. He's not even sure why it does. Blaine's basically telling him he'll always be there, but it just stings a little. Sam tries not to think about it because thinking about it too much will just make things worse for him.

"I'm sorry if I haven't been around." Blaine goes on, and his voice sounds weird and like he's putting extra control behind it or something. "I know things have been different."

Sam looks back up, forcing himself to stop hiding his eyes. "It's not your fault. You have Kurt. I'm just… lonely." He pushes a hand through his hair and feels it stand up. "And New York just hasn't been like what I expected, you know?"

And Blaine nods. "I know."

"I don't want things to be weird. And I don't want you to feel… like I don't know that it's messed up." Sam blinks and rubs at the corner of his eye absently. "Because I do. And I'm sorry."

"Stop apologizing." Blaine's voice is still really quiet and weird. "You can't help it."

It's the second time he's said it, but Sam isn't sure either one of them believe it. He's pretty sure that no matter what, things are weird now. And it's his fault, so if anyone's to blame, it's him.

And he hates it.

…

He's right. Things are weird. They both try to act like they're not, but they are. They actually start speaking to each other again and stop avoiding each other all the time, but now they talk to each other like two people who don't really know each other and have to force politeness.

It's basically worse than not speaking.

Sam knows it's his fault, and that he's a hundred percent responsible, but he can't help it. Maybe he shouldn't have told Blaine all that stuff, but it was all true, and he's honestly glad to have it off his chest. He didn't tell Blaine all of it, though- like he left out the part about how it hurts to look at him because he's about ninety-nine percent sure he's in love with him.

But that doesn't matter. He could be a hundred percent sure and it wouldn't matter because Blaine is in love with _Kurt. _And they are getting married. And Sam's role in that is not to be some asshole who gets in the way- it's to be a good friend and stand beside him and support him. So that's what he's determined to do.

But it's really hard because nothing's the same anymore.

…

He doesn't know why it happens, and it's kind of the last thing he expects when he's washing out his dinner dish before work.

Rachel's already gone to the theatre, and Kurt's at some kind of study group or something. Blaine and Sam are the only ones home, but they're not really hanging out. Sam makes a can of soup to eat before he has to leave, and Blaine's in his "room" doing homework or something. They aren't necessarily ignoring each other, but they aren't going out of their way to talk to each other, either.

So when Sam comes out of the bathroom after brushing his teeth and washing his hands, he's sort of surprised to see Blaine waiting for him.

"What's up?" He tries to be casual as he goes over to the sofa to start getting his bag together. Blaine follows him and stands behind him. Sam doesn't know what's wrong, so he turns around to look at him when it starts getting weird. "Are you okay?"

And then Blaine kisses him.

Sam's shocked at first because it comes out of nowhere. One second he's just standing there, and the next, Blaine is on his tip toes and pressing their lips together. He doesn't know how to react, so he just doesn't. But then Blaine's hand is behind his neck, pulling his head down, and he reacts without really thinking about it. He kisses him back. And they just stand there with their lips together and their bodies still a safe distance apart. The only other connection is Blaine's hand, which is now kind of digging into his neck a little bit, but it feels pretty good, so Sam doesn't mind.

And then it's over.

Blaine pulls back and is back on flat feet. He takes his hand back, too, and they just look at each other. Sam doesn't know what the hell just happened, and his brain isn't exactly working at warp-speed. He's confused, and he kind of thinks Blaine is, too.

Nobody says anything, and it's totally weird and not weird at the same time. Blaine's mouth finally moves like he's going to say something, but nothing comes out. Sam doesn't know what the hell is going on, but he can't make his mouth work, either.

And then Blaine leaves.

Just like Sam did the first time. Blaine doesn't say a word. He just gets his coat and leaves, and Sam's standing there in the middle of the living room not knowing what the hell just happened or what's going on. His head is spinning, and he can't figure out if it's in a good way or a bad way. But seriously…

He's in _way _too deep.

…

…

…

A/N: Thank you to everyone who took time out to review on the last part. I hope you liked this one, too- or at least didn't hate it! I'm pretty sure the next part will be the last. Thanks for reading!


	5. Chapter 5

**JUST MISSED THE TRAIN**

**Part 5**

…

…

…

It's Sam's turn to corner Blaine.

They haven't spoken since _that _happened, and Sam's finally just over it. He was finally (mostly) honest about his own feelings, and he wants to know what's going on with Blaine. Why did he kiss him? Does he still have those feelings that he did last year? Or was that just something dumb and silly that went away as fast as it came? He just wants to _know. _

Because all of this is going to kill him.

He's literally going crazy. Now he's more unsure than ever about his sexuality because he definitely, _definitely _enjoyed those kisses. He can't stop thinking about them, and it's only made it worse when it comes to thoughts he's sure he shouldn't be having. He doesn't even try to ignore them anymore because that never works anyway.

Blaine's avoiding him, and he knows it, so he skips his morning run on Tuesday and waits for Blaine to head out for his classes. He knows he has an 8:00 class, so he always leaves about 7. Nobody else is awake, but Sam's up and waiting when he gets out of the bathroom and heads toward the door.

"We need to talk."

"Sam, I'm late."

He's not, but that's not the point. Sam just grabs his coat and says, "I'll go with you."

Blaine looks annoyed while he reaches for his own coat. "I don't have time." And his voice is all low and dangerous like he's giving him a warning or something.

"Well, we could talk here instead." Sam raises his voice just enough to let on that he's not afraid to wake the others- mainly Kurt- up.

Blaine gets it, and he's pissed. But he still rolls his eyes and says, "Fine. Let's go."

They don't speak until they actually get outside, and the cold air hits them like a bus. Blaine's all super fast walking toward the subway station, but Sam's legs are longer, and he has zero problem keeping up.

"Why did you kiss me?" He puts it right out there, the same way Blaine did to him.

Blaine, though, doesn't seem like he has much interest in being honest at the moment. "Because I was being stupid."

The words sting worse than the early morning wind. Sam tries to tell himself to not let it hurt as badly as it does, but that's a lot easier said than done. He can't really think of anything to say that won't make him sound totally lame, so he just says exactly what's on his mind. "I liked it."

Blaine stops, and Sam stops with him. He looks him right in the eye, and Sam can tell he's on the edge of his nerves. "Sam, listen." He sounds very serious. "You are my best friend, and I love you. But I _cannot _help you figure out your sexuality."

"I'm not-"

"No, let me finish." Blaine takes a breath. "I ruined my entire relationship before because I cheated, and I'm not going to do it again. It doesn't matter if it's just a kiss. It's _cheating, _and I can't do that to Kurt. I can't mess things up because I have something _real _in my life, and I can't ruin it just to be part of whatever _phase _you're going through."

"It's not a phase."

Blaine shakes his head. "Sam… I've never in my life heard you ever mention this before now. You're not gay, you're just lonely."

"I know I'm not gay."

"I don't even think you're attracted to men. I think you're just… bored!"

Sam doesn't know whether to be offended or not. On one hand, it sort of feels like Blaine's telling him he's too stupid to even know what's going on in his own mind and body, and maybe he is. But he knows one thing. "I'm attracted to _you." _He seriously can't even believe he's got the balls to say all of this, but he's tired of trying to figure it out when he's probably known all along.

Blaine just stares at him. He doesn't say anything for a long moment, and then he just shakes his head. "You shouldn't be," he says quietly. "Because nothing's going to come of it."

It hurts. A lot. Sam doesn't say anything. They just stand there staring at each other, and he tries really hard to make his face not be so obvious. But he can't because he's feeling way too much. And it sucks. He's so tired of always putting his heart on the line and having it trampled. He should be used to it by now because no one's ever going to want him as much as he wants them. They never have, and they never will.

"Sam…" Blaine looks like he feels really bad or something, and Sam notices for the first time that his eyes are stinging. He's not going to let himself cry- he's just not. "Please just forget about it, okay? I'm sorry if I made you think something, but… But I can't do this, okay? And stop making things hard on yourself. This isn't the life you want- where people look at you and judge you and call you names for something you can't control, just for loving who you love. You've got it easy right now. Don't make it worse."

Fuck. Fuck, fuck, _fuck. _

Blaine leaves then, and Sam doesn't go after him.

…

Why the hell does he always do this?

Why does he always do everything he can to be honest and put himself out there when nobody ever does it for him? And what the hell is _wrong _with him? Why does nobody ever want him? He tries so hard all the time, but it never gets him anywhere. He knows he's not perfect. He knows he's a dumbass who says the wrong things at the wrong times, and even if he tries really hard not to be, he knows he's stupid. He's not smart- he doesn't know things that other people know. He tries, but it never gets any better. But he doesn't know how to change it. He can't rewire his brain and make it work better. The only thing he can control is his body, and even though he busts his ass all the time at that, he knows it's not perfect, either.

The only thing he's good at in the whole freaking world is taking his clothes off.

He's a _loser. _That's why nobody wants him. Who would ever want somebody like that? A stupid idiot who can't do anything except take his clothes off for a few bucks? He doesn't even know what he's doing here. This whole fucking city is terrible, and he hates it. He should never have come here in the first place because he's just a _joke._

…

He goes to the bridal expo thing and does his best to not totally suck at it because the last thing he needs is to really blow that, too.

It's okay. He basically just walks the runway and turns around and comes back. He's been to a couple of runway classes, and it's not that hard- not for dudes anyway, he doesn't know _how _the girls don't fall flat on their asses in the shoes they make them wear. But for him, it's just wear a suit and walk. He has a couple of changes and walks with a few different girls, and then it's over.

He feels like crap by the time it's done, but he takes the "swag bag" that's apparently complimentary to all the people in the fashion show and heads home. He checks it out on the train, and it's basically a bunch of wedding samples and crap that he has no interest in because he has no one who loves him, much less someone who wants to _marry _him.

When he gets home, he throws it at Kurt before he goes to the bathroom to take a shower and try to forget that his life is a total freaking waste.

…

A lot of the guys from the club go out after work and hit up bars and nightclubs because working the night shift means you have the entire next day to recover. Since Sam works two jobs, he really doesn't have that luxury, but one night, he's bored and desperate enough to say yes when they ask if he wants to hang out with them.

He's not twenty-one, but he still gets served because everyone around him is obviously legal, and maybe they just assume he is, too. Whatever, not like he's going to complain. It's the perfect opportunity to get completely wasted and leave with the first girl who hits on him. Her name is Amelia or Andrea and Angela or something. He's really not sure. He knows she's there with her friends and that she tells them she's leaving, so he takes that as his cue to go with her. She's been basically dry humping him on the dance floor for the last nineteen hours or so (or maybe just one hour- he's really not sure about that, either).

But they go back to her place, which turns out to be this apartment that has two other people living in it, and she apologizes for her overabundance of roommates, but he just tells her he lives on a couch in a loft with three other people, and they laugh about it because they're both pretty drunk.

He has sex with her, and it's fun. He hasn't had sex in a long time, and he's too intoxicated to care that he's probably not making really smart choices. On the other hand, what the hell is the big deal? It's just sex, and he has a condom. And it's not like he's hurting anybody. If he wants to have sex with a hundred different people, he can, and it's really nobody else's damn business.

But when he wakes up on a futon at 5:30 in the morning with a massive headache and a girl beside him whose name he literally does not know, he realizes maybe he's pretty dumb. He doesn't bother waking her up before he leaves, and he's like 99 percent positive that that makes him a douche, but there's also a chance that she really doesn't give a crap and will be grateful that he's saving them both the embarrassment of some awkward goodbye.

He gets lost when he leaves her apartment, and it takes him forever to find a train station, and then it takes even longer because he has to make a connection, and he has to wait forever. But he finally gets home and just wants to fall onto the couch and sleep for another five hours or so.

But that doesn't happen.

Blaine's awake and already showered and dressed. He's at the table with a bowl of cereal in front of him and a frown on his face. He looks a little relieved when Sam comes in, though, and asks where he's been.

"At some chick's house." Sam doesn't care to elaborate because his head is freaking _pounding, _and even though he wishes Blaine wasn't awake and drilling him, he's super thankful for the pot of coffee that's already been made.

"What chick?"

Sam shrugs and pours himself a cup of coffee. "I don't know. Something with an A."

Blaine looks sort of judgey when he says, "Did you sleep with her?"

Sam could consciously make an effort to not be a dick, but he really doesn't feel like it. "Well, I didn't just go over there to play BINGO."

Blaine looks like he wants to call him out on being an ass, but he doesn't. Instead, he just says, "Are you really sure that's a good idea?"

"Why do you care? You're the one who told me to go be straight."

"Shh…" And Blaine glances over to where the curtains are still pulled together.

To be totally honest, Sam doesn't give a shit if somebody hears at this point. But whatever, it's not worth it. Instead, he just ignores Blaine and keeps going. "So I went out and found a random girl, and I fucked her. And I liked it, so I guess my dick is still as straight as ever. No harm, no foul, right?"

Blaine's eyes get really big, and he looks like maybe he's going to get up from the table and shake him or something, but he doesn't. Instead, he just hisses at him. "What the hell is wrong with you?!"

Sam glares, but then he just kind of shakes his head and shrugs. "I'm still drunk."

"You need to go to bed."

Sam's not sure why he's so pissed off, but he rolls his eyes anyway. "I don't need you to tell me what to do. I'm grown, I can take care of myself."

"Fine." Blaine gets up and dumps his bowl in the sink. "Whatever. I don't give a crap."

"I think you're jealous." Whatever, he's drunk. He really doesn't care right now.

Blaine is pissed, and he seriously turns around and gives him like a super hateful look. "What the hell would I be jealous of? That you're off having sex with girls you don't even know and doing the walk of shame at 6 o'clock in the morning?"

"That I'm off having sex with girls period."

Blaine rolls his eyes. "I'm _glad _you are! Maybe now you can finally get over whatever the hell has been making you act crazy for the past four months!"

Sam has no idea what he's doing or why, but his mouth is just moving without him being able to stop it. "Yeah, maybe I'll go find another girl tonight. Do it again."

"Do it a thousand times!" And Blaine looks honestly mad. There's a part of Sam that's secretly happy about that, even though he really shouldn't be trying to make something out of it. He knows he shouldn't, but his brain doesn't feel like listening to him right now. "I don't care! I don't know why you _think_ I care!"

And Sam doesn't know why he does it, but he moves without thinking. He drops his coffee mug into the sink beside the cereal bowl, and then he shoves Blaine back against the counter and kisses him. It's not all nervous and testing like the other times- this time he just _kisses _him, like it's something they've been doing for ages. It's angry, though- one of those mad kisses that you can feel _everywhere. _And he does feel it everywhere. Blaine doesn't fight him or push him off, though, and he just kisses him back with the same amount of anger.

And _fuck._

Sam's the one who pulls back because something in his head finally starts working, and he's not nearly drunk enough to make excuses for this. Blaine's staring at him, and thinking would be a whole lot easier if they actually moved further apart, but they don't. Sam shakes his head, though. "You don't need to cheat on Kurt," he finally mumbles because what the hell are they doing right now?

Blaine opens his mouth, but no words come out. And then a second later, he's grabbing Sam and pulling his head back down. And then they're kissing again, like fully going at it right there in the middle of the kitchen. Nothing makes sense right now, but _shit. _Sam can't make himself stop this time because it feels way too good, and he doesn't _want _to. This is what he wants to be doing all the time, and it's not fair that he can't. And there's not enough sense in the world to make him stop again.

Kissing Blaine is like… He can't even think about it. But his mouth is warm, and his tongue tastes like Chocolate Chex. He's got one hand at the back of Sam's neck, and the other one has fingers digging into Sam's arms. Sam still has him pressed against the counter, and if he moves half an inch, he's pretty sure he can angle them perfectly to feel _everything._

But he doesn't. Because they both hear the footsteps at the same time, and just like that, it's over.

Rachel is standing there staring at them. She's in pajamas, and her hair is a mess. She obviously just woke up, but she's definitely awake now. They both look at her, and she just stares at them with the worst kind of look on her face. It's super obvious that she has no idea what to say or what's going on.

She doesn't say a word. She just stands there, and then she turns around and goes back to her room. And Blaine's immediately freaking out. He pushes Sam out of the way and runs after her. And Sam's once again left alone.

He's tired of it, and he's tired of being in this apartment. He's tired of everything. He has no idea where he's going, but he's got to get out of there.

So he leaves.

…

He lies to his manager and says that they're fumigating his building, so she gives him a discount and lets him stay at the hotel for a few days. It's in a room that's apparently undergoing some renovations because half the tile is up in the bathroom, and the curtains are falling down. It's cheap enough, and he's not going to complain. Hell, it's a real actual bed, and he hasn't slept in one of those since last summer.

He does a lot of thinking while he's there, and he actually turns his phone all the way off because he doesn't want to talk to anyone. He just wants to be alone, and he doesn't need anyone interfering in that. He goes to work, both jobs, and it's easy for the hotel because he literally just has to go downstairs. He can sleep in an extra hour or more if he wants, but he normally doesn't because sleeping is pretty hard. There's too much going on in his head. Everything is a mess, and he knows it's all his fault. He only has himself to blame, but that doesn't make it suck any less.

He finally turns his phone back on after three days, and his voicemail is full. That makes him excited for half a second, but then he realizes every single message is from either his mom or his dad, except two, which are from Blaine. Those messages aren't Blaine begging to talk to him or confessing his undying love or anything. They're him telling Sam, "Your parents are freaking out. Your mom thinks you're dead, and she's seriously panicking. I think she's about to call the police. Stop being an asshole and call her."

Sam feels like crap because he didn't even think about worrying his parents. But he immediately calls his mom because the last thing he needs is her calling the police and reporting him as a missing person or something. It's his dad who answers, though, and as soon as he hears that Sam's okay, he immediately starts going off on him. He's yelling, and Sam feels like he's about fourteen and getting in trouble. He half expects to get grounded or something, but obviously he doesn't. He just sits there and lets his dad yell at him because he deserves it. He deserves to be yelled at for a lot of reasons, but he'll take what he can get.

Finally, he talks to his mother, and he apologizes and says that he's been going through a lot of stuff. She asks what's wrong, but he can't tell her. He's not ready to put himself out there like that, and she can't do anything to help anyway. He needs to just grow up and get over it. So he just tells her that it's nothing and he'll work it out and not to worry. She says she'll always worry, especially with him being so far away, and something clicks in his brain.

When he hangs up with his mom, he texts Blaine and tells him that he called his parents and told them he's fine.

Blaine doesn't reply for nearly an hour, and then he finally writes back. "Good. Where are you?"

Sam tells him he's at the hotel, and Blaine sends back another text saying they need to talk.

They don't really. And Sam tells him that. Talking hasn't been working out too well for them.

Blaine ignores him. "I'll come over."

And that's that.

…

It's almost dinner time when Blaine finally decides to show up.

Sam gives him the room number and lets him in, even though he's almost positive he doesn't want to hear whatever Blaine has to say. He knows everything is a hundred percent messed up, and he doesn't have faith at all that that's going to change. So whatever. He just resigns himself to the fact and opens the door.

It's super weird at first, and they don't really look at each other. Blaine comes in, and they both stand around awkwardly until Sam finally sits down in the desk chair, which makes Blaine sit on the bench at the end of the bed.

Finally, he says, "Rachel didn't tell."

Sam's shocked about that, to be honest. Rachel's not the best secret keeper on a good day, and Kurt's her best friend. He can't believe she didn't run right to him and blab. "Why not?" There has to be a catch, and there is.

"She wants me to tell him." Blaine looks really sad, like he's confused or doesn't want to really be there or something.

"Are you going to?" Maybe Sam could show more sympathy, but he really doesn't feel like it. He's too tired to be sympathetic.

Blaine looks at him for a second and then looks away. He doesn't answer the question. He just says, "This isn't who I want to be."

Sam takes it more personally than he probably should. But he can't help it. He's sick of all this. He's sick of the back and forth. He already knows exactly where he stands, and he wishes Blaine could just get up the balls and tell him so that he can officially give up. He's too tired to deal with this anymore.

"So don't be," he finally says. "Tell him you made a mistake, and I'll leave you alone."

"Sam…"

"No, really," and he probably sounds snappier than he really means to, but he can't help it. "Blaine, I'm tired of this."

"So am I."

Sam consciously resists the urge to roll his eyes. "So you know what to do. This is messed up, and I know it's all my fault. But-"

"I just don't understand why you couldn't have figured this out _last _year."

Sam really looks at him for the first time then. They lock eyes, and for a second, Sam thinks there might be something deeper there. But there's no point pretending. "And then what?" he asks seriously. "Even if I had, you still would have ended up going back to Kurt."

"You don't know that." Blaine's quiet, but Sam's too frustrated to try to read whatever hidden meaning is there.

Instead, he just brushes it off. "Yes, I do. You love him. You're engaged to him. This is all just a mistake."

"You think it's a mistake?" Sam hates the way he sounds like he's actually _hurt _or something, but he can't let himself get sidetracked.

"I think it's ruining your life," he says flatly. "_I'm _ruining your life."

"You're not ruining my life. You're my best friend."

Sam wants to roll his eyes again, but he doesn't. He can't keep doing this- _they _can't keep doing it. "I'm leaving."

Blaine looks confused. "Did you find an apartment?"

Sam shakes his head. "No, I'm leaving. I'm going to Kentucky. For good."

Blaine just stares at him. Sam didn't know he was positive about the decision until right then, but now he knows it's the only way that anything can possibly get better. He doesn't belong in this city. There is literally nothing here for him. His modeling career is a joke. He's a stripper with no future and no chance of ever being anything better. He hates this city, and he's done nothing but hate himself ever since he got here. He came here for Blaine, but Blaine isn't his. He's not now, and he never will be. And it was stupid of him to think that senior year would last forever, and that they could just keep on being Blam.

Blam is officially over, and he can't just stick around and watch it burn.

"Sam… No." Blaine finally says something, and he sounds totally serious. "No, you can't go to Kentucky."

"Why not?"

"Because you can't just leave me here!"

Sam doesn't know whether to call him out on how selfish he sounds or just let it slide. He finally decides on the second. "If I stay here, you're going to be miserable and ruin everything in your life. And you know it."

"But we're best friends…"

They both keep saying that, like it actually means something. At the end of the day, it doesn't mean much at all. Best friends is kind of a joke when they can barely even look at each other or speak to each other anymore. Everything that made them best friends in the first place is ruined because now they've messed it all up. Or Sam's messed it up anyway.

"If I don't go, we're not going to be friends anymore," and Sam doesn't realize how serious he is until he says it out loud. "Me being here is ruining everything."

Blaine looks like he doesn't know what to say. He sits there staring at the air until he finally shakes his head like he's snapping himself out of something. "This is… You…" He can't make a coherent sentence. "Fuck, Sam!"

Sam actually jumps a little bit at the outburst, but he tries to pretend like he's not fazed. "You know it's the truth."

"I know you're just running away and leaving me here by _myself _to deal with this bullshit!" And now he sounds pissed.

"We both know that if I stay here, it's going to turn into much bigger bullshit. And you're not by yourself. You have a fiancé."

Blaine kind of glares at him. It hurts a little bit because he seems angry, and Sam never really meant for him to hate him or anything, even if that would probably be easier. But he can't keep doing this. And even though it really hurts, he actually loves Blaine too much to let him ruin his life over this. Things are going to be much easier if he's not here. For both of them.

"You don't get to just throw all of this shit on me and then run away!" Blaine's voice goes all the way to a yell for a second. He stands up, and Sam doesn't know what he's going to do. For a second, it seems like he might leave, but then he doesn't. "This is all your fault."

Sam feels like crap, but he doesn't deny it. "I know," he mumbles, and he can really even hardly stand to look at him. "That's why I'm leaving."

"Fine," and Blaine sounds super hateful. "Go. Whatever."

"Blaine…"

"No," and Blaine cuts him right off. "I don't care anymore."

He leaves, and Sam can't do anything except just sit there because everything hurts too much. He has a feeling that won't be changing any time soon.

…

Kentucky is Kentucky.

He's never been the hugest fan, and it seems even worse now. Before, he was always just annoyed because he didn't know anyone and didn't really ever make friends. Now, he _still _doesn't know anyone, but it also feels like the most boring place in the world after being in a huge city like New York. It's not like a podunk town or anything, but it might as well be compared to what he's grown used to over the past several months. It's going to take awhile to get used to it.

His parents don't really drill him that much about why he suddenly needed to move home. His mom asks if he wants to talk about anything, but he just tells her that he got frustrated because he barely booked any modeling jobs and that he never really liked the city that much. It's half-true. He enjoyed the fact that there was always something to do, but there was a ton about the city that he hated. It smelled gross, and it was way too crowded. Nobody was ever nice, and he never really found his place. So telling his mom all of that sounds pretty legitimate, and even if she doesn't completely buy it, she doesn't push for once.

He puts in applications around town, trying to find a job, but he's not having much luck. After a few weeks, it's pretty obvious that he's been delegated to permanent taxi and babysitter. He doesn't really mind, even if he would like to be helping out some. He's got a lot of money saved, so he's still able to pitch in even though his parents tell him not to. It's fine, though. He doesn't mind hanging out with his brother and sister, at least not usually. Stacy's always had a pretty bad case of youngest child syndrome, so Sam's used to her random fits and moments of brattiness. Stevie, though, has always been pretty chill, mostly quiet and calm. Apparently by eleven, though, kids decide to turn into little assholes. It's probably like hormones or something, but he has all kinds of sudden outbursts and acts like he hates the world half the time. He's _definitely _too old for a babysitter, and he makes no secret about it. But Sam just tries to ignore it for the most part and pretend like he isn't googling signs of demon possession late at night.

Stevie's not happy with having to suddenly share his room, either, and he doesn't try to hide it. Sam does sort of feel bad because he knows it has to feel like he's invading or something. Plus, his brother's used to having the room to himself, so he offers to sleep on the couch. God knows he's used to it by now. But his dad tells him no and tells his brother that he needs to cut out the complaining unless he wants to be really sorry. So he shuts up for the most part, but there are still plenty of grumbles about it when they're alone because Stevie knows Sam won't tell on him.

It sucks, though, because he loves his brother, and he wishes that the age gap wasn't as big as it actually is because he needs somebody to talk to. He doesn't want to talk to his parents, and he feels like he _can't _talk to any of his friends. Anything he says to his friends would just be a disaster because 1) he'd have to admit to all this crap and 2) none of them would take his side. It sucks. He feels cut off from everyone and more alone than ever.

But maybe he deserves that. He's the one who messed everything up, so maybe this is just his punishment. He couldn't just leave well enough alone and be satisfied- he had to go digging into crap that he knew would never work out for him. And now he's lost everything. He's back in a town that was never his home, and he feels more alone than he ever has in his life.

But he deserves it.

…

At one point, his dad catches him after everybody else has gone to bed and says he's there if Sam needs to talk.

For half a second, Sam considers telling him. But then he realizes what he'd be doing, and he's suddenly scared about a lot more than just the fact that he's lost all of his friends. Blaine was right when he said he has it easy right now. He's never thought about how people might look at him or what they might say if he ever _did _just come out and say that he is apparently attracted to guys as well. And that he likes kissing them. A lot. He doesn't know if people would judge him or if they would just accept him. He's not ready to find out, either.

His parents have always taught him to accept everyone, no matter what. They've always told him not to judge other people because it's not his place, just to love people because that's all God wants him to do. But the truth is, he doesn't know how he really feels about God these days. He hasn't talked about it to anyone, mostly because he's kind of scared to say it out loud, but it's there in the back of his head. He's always been in church his whole life, and he's always believed in God and Jesus and done everything good Christians are supposed to do. But lately, it just really feels like nobody's there.

He feels so alone, and if he prays, he doesn't feel like anybody's listening. So he just doesn't. And if God is real, why does he make people hurt so much? Why does he make friends turn against each other? Why does he let people fall in love with people who won't love them back? Why does he let bad things happen? Why do nineteen year old boys die before they have a chance to do _anything? _He's got a lot of questions, but not a lot of answers.

He still goes to church with his family. It's an obligation, and really, he thinks it would honestly _hurt _his parents if he refused to go or admitted that he's basically almost given up, so he doesn't say anything. He can keep it a secret, just like everything else. He doesn't feel anything there, though- nothing except judgment really. He hears sermon after sermon about love and acceptance, but he hears the underlying messages underneath. He can't imagine that the church would be so loving and accepting if they knew he was a stripper. Or that he's exchanged sexual favors for money. Or that he's harboring at least some level of same sex attraction. He knows the church's stance on that, and anything that starts with the words "same sex" is probably not going to go over too well.

So he keeps his mouth shut and doesn't tell any of them.

He doesn't tell his dad, either, because no matter how much he's always pushed acceptance, there's a part of Sam who wonders just exactly how accepting he would be if he knew the truth. He'd like to think that his parents wouldn't care and that they would just keep on loving him unconditionally. But there's a part of him that's a little worried that their first thought would be, _"What did we do wrong?" _And he can't stand that thought- for so many reasons.

So he just keeps his mouth shut and tells his dad he'll let him know if he needs anything.

…

Homework is never really a fun time in the Evans's household. It wasn't when Sam was in school, and it's not now that the kids have regular homework, either. With Sam, it was difficult because it was literally _difficult. _There was so much he didn't understand and couldn't comprehend, and school was just always really hard for him. It's not like that for his brother and sister, though- they're both at least semi-smart and usually don't struggle _that _much. But they're lazy, and they'd much rather be watching TV or playing video games than doing homework, so they like to fight it every step of the way.

Still, there are rules. And the rule has always been homework first, everything else second.

His parents are at work, so when the kids get off the bus, it's up to Sam to make sure they actually sit down and start doing their work. They argue a little bit like always, but it's pointless because they both know he's not going to budge. If he did, _he'd _be the one in trouble, and he's not really in the mood to piss his parents off. So he makes them sit at the kitchen table and get all of their work out. Stacy only has science, but Stevie has like three different subjects, and it's obvious he's not happy about it. They've only got a few weeks of school left, though, and Sam tells them that as a way to offer some kind of condolence for the fact that they're stuck inside doing homework when there are plenty of other things they'd rather be doing. They don't seem to think his statement is very encouraging, though, and he gets a double set of eye-rolling.

"Will you make me a grilled cheese?" It's Stacy who asks for it, and Sam's really not that shocked. His sister can _eat. _She usually eats more than anyone in their family, and she's been like that for awhile. Sometimes he thinks she's some kind of human garbage disposal or something, so he tells her yes because there's really no chance of her ruining her dinner or anything. He asks if his brother wants one, too, and gets a grumbled reply and a shrug that he vaguely interprets as a yes.

Stacy is babbling away about photosynthesis, and really the only thing Sam remembers about that is some kids giggling when his teacher said the word "reproduction." He didn't know what was funny and went home and asked his mom. So yeah, he remembers that. He tries to block his sister out, though, because she's talking to air basically, and Stevie eventually gets sick of it and tells her to shut up, which gets an immediate, "Sam! Stevie told me to shut up!"

"Can y'all just not fight for like two minutes?" He's irritated, and he's not in the mood to hear them arguing. So he ignores the huffiness he gets in response and just focuses on not tearing the bread while he spreads the butter.

The doorbell rings a few minutes later, which is weird because they aren't expecting anyone. Stacy jumps up immediately and runs to the living room to answer it, though, and Stevie says, "Finally! Some peace and quiet!" in this really dramatic way that almost makes Sam laugh before he remembers that he probably shouldn't be encouraging this.

"_Sammy!" _Stacy's yelling at him from the other room, and he's not surprised. She has this habit of engaging anyone and everyone because apparently she never learned that lesson about not talking to strangers. She's let more than enough salesmen, Jehovah Witnesses, and Mormons into the house to last a lifetime, so now she has a rule where she's not allowed to let anyone in without asking permission unless it's somebody they're expecting or like a neighborhood friend.

Sam sets the bread down and wipes his hands on his jeans so he can go see who Stacy's entertaining on the porch. He expects to see a couple of white shirts and ties with backpacks and super neat haircuts. What he sees instead actually shocks him.

Very neat hair, but no backpack or white shirt. And for once, there's no bowtie.

They just stare at each other and don't say anything until Stacy breaks in with the obvious. "Look, it's Blaine!"

And it is. Blaine's just standing there, looking kind of nervous or something. Sam has no idea why he's there, and he finally makes his mouth move to ask, "What are you doing here?"

"I need to talk to you." It's super vague, and Sam can tell there's a whole lot he's not saying because there's a nine year old in the room.

"Stacy, go finish your homework."

"I'm hungry!" She's about to start pouting, and he kind of wants to strangle her.

"I'm making you a sandwich. Now go do what I said."

She huffs off but at least doesn't argue anymore. He knows he better feed her soon, or she's gonna have a meltdown. He's got to deal with that, but he's also kind of focused on the person still standing in his doorway.

"You know I have a phone, right?"

"Yeah, I also know you probably wouldn't answer."

Sam can't pretend like he's wrong. He probably _wouldn't _have answered. He wouldn't know what to say anyway, just like he doesn't now.

He settles with, "So what did you need?" and doesn't respond to the original statement.

Blaine looks kind of unnerved, but he's pretty straight to the point when he says, "I came all the way here from New York. Can I at least come in?"

There's a part of Sam that wants to tell him no, but obviously he doesn't. He just moves to the left, and Blaine takes that as his cue to come in. Sam shuts the door behind him, and they just stare at each other.

Finally, Blaine says, "So how have you been?"

Sam shrugs because he's not sure what he's supposed to be feeling right now. Part of him is still angry with the way things ended, but another part is just tired. The biggest part, though, is just trying to ignore all the real feelings that are fighting inside of him. He does his best, though, and shrugs and says, "I've mostly just been hanging out with my brother and sister."

"Did you find a job?"

He shakes his head and wonders why they're doing this- why they're standing around making small talk like the past several months didn't happen. Like they didn't make out more than a couple of times, like they didn't have a huge blowup ruin everything.

"No," he manages to mutter. "But I'm helping out this way."

Blaine nods, and he looks like he's about to say something else that maybe isn't so lame, but he gets interrupted by Stevie's voice yelling from the kitchen. _"Sam!"_

Sam rolls his eyes, trying to imagine what Stacy has done to piss his brother off and put him in a tattling mood. "Hang on." He goes to find out what's wrong because if he doesn't, the screaming is just going to get louder.

"What?" he asks, totally annoyed at just about everything and totally willing to take it out on his little brother.

"I don't know how to do this crap!" And Stevie shoves his pre-algebra book away from him and crosses his arms like a five year old.

Sam almost tells him to stop being a brat, but he tries to have some sympathy. He knows it sucks not to understand stuff, but it's not like he can help. He's not really great at any subjects, but algebra is one of the worst. He doesn't understand why there have to letters _and _numbers. Aren't those confusing enough by themselves? Who the hell thought up the bright idea to put them together?

"I don't know how to do it, either," he says, and he feels bad that he can't even help with sixth grade homework, but he really can't. "Did you try reading about it in your book?"

Stevie rolls his eyes because that's totally his go-to move for everything. "Duh."

It takes a lot of restraint to not strangle him or at least smack him, but Sam manages. He doesn't even realize that Blaine's followed him in until he says, "What are you doing? Maybe I can help."

Stevie looks suspicious and also just kind of confused as to why Blaine's suddenly there (Sam is, too, to be honest). But he pulls his book back and shows him what he's doing anyway. Blaine leans over his shoulder to read, and then he starts spouting off all kinds of stuff that goes right over Sam's head while Stevie erases some stuff and starts writing down new stuff. Sam's not surprised that Blaine knows what he's doing- he's really smart and always knows stuff like that. He's also not surprised that Stevie gets over his suspicion super fast and gets comfortable enough to start asking question. Blaine's actually only met his siblings twice- once during spring break last year when he tagged along to Kentucky with Sam and once at graduation- but he hit it off with them both times, and it's obvious that they both like him and think he's pretty awesome.

While Blaine helps with homework (Stacy suddenly needs help as well, even though she was doing just fine a second ago), Sam finishes the sandwiches. He makes three, just in case Blaine wants one. He's not hungry himself, which isn't like shocking or anything because his appetite's been kind of short ever since he left New York. He just doesn't feel like eating a lot, but he knows the kids definitely don't share that feeling.

He doesn't feel like doing any dishes, so he puts all the sandwiches on paper towels and sets them in front of each person at the table. Stacy immediately starts devouring hers, and Stevie picks at some of his crust. Blaine just looks at his own and then looks at Sam kind of questioningly. Sam shrugs because it's not like a grilled cheese sandwich is a big deal, and maybe he's hungry from the plane or something. Whatever, he's not going to be rude and _not _feed him when he's making food for everyone else.

"Do you want something to drink?" He's actually asking Blaine, but it's Stacy who jumps in and says she wants chocolate milk. Sam rolls his eyes at her and gives her white milk, which obviously sets off her whining, but he just ignores her. She doesn't need all that extra sugar, even though his parents let her have it all the time. He doesn't care. He just tells her to be quiet, and he grabs three bottles of water for Stevie, Blaine, and himself.

He cleans the pan while the other three eat and finish up with whatever homework questions there are. He tries not to feel as awkward as he really does, but it's weird. Blaine's here in his kitchen, and there's definitely a change to the way things feel between them. The air feels thick, and he's thankful for outside distractions like dishes and homework to make things a little less weird. But that can only go on for so long, and soon, he's done with the dishes, and there are no more school questions to be asked.

Stacy's done with her homework, and she packs up her backpack and puts it by the door before she announces that she's going to Sadie's. Sadie's in her class and lives on the road behind them. She has a trampoline, and Stacy spends about ninety percent of her free time over there. Stevie's obviously pissed that he can't get up and go do something else, too, but he still has two subjects left, and he knows he might as well just get them over with.

He doesn't need any more help, though, and Blaine looks at Sam in a way that obviously says they need to talk. And preferably alone. So Sam gets the message and swings his head in a 'follow me' motion before he leads them down the hallway to his room. Blaine's been in here before, so he doesn't seem surprised by how small it is or by the bunkbeds against the wall. It's still a little embarrassing, though, especially since it's more cluttered than ever thanks to Sam moving all of his stuff back in. Blaine doesn't seem to notice or care, though, when he shuts the door behind them and leans back against it. Sam doesn't know what to do, so he just stands there with his hands in his pockets waiting for Blaine to say something.

"I'm not getting married. Kurt and I broke up."

Sam doesn't know what to say to that. He doesn't know whether to be happy or be irrationally angry. His head is spinning again, and he hates it. All he can manage is a, "Why?"

Blaine looks sort of miserable, but he's not crying or anything at least. He looks down at the floor, and Sam's suddenly very conscious of the dirt-stained carpet, but he tries not to think about it. "I told him," and Blaine's all quiet now. "About everything."

Sam just says, "Oh," because what else is he supposed to say? "He defriended me on Facebook."

Blaine looks slightly surprised by that and shakes his head. "He shouldn't be mad at you. It was a lot more than that."

Sam tells himself that he shouldn't care- that there's no way he can just hear all about this and stay detached. But there's a bigger part of him that still cares and knows Blaine needs someone to talk to if nothing else. So he says, "What else?" and finally leans back against the bed ladder so that he's not just standing there in the middle of the room.

Blaine lifts one shoulder and shakes his head. "I just think… I was in love with Kurt from two years ago. And I think he was in love with me from two years ago… But that's not who we are anymore."

"What do you mean?"

"We're different people, and I think all of that happened when we weren't together. He's not…" Blaine shakes his head again. "He had a whole year to find himself and become a new person in New York. And that's not a bad thing, he's great and confident, and people are finally recognizing that. But he's different. And so am I…"

"I don't think you're different."

Blaine finally looks up, and he looks right at Sam. "That's because who I am is who I became while I was with you."

Sam has no idea what he's talking about, and his face obviously shows that because Blaine keeps going.

"Last year, I was all alone. And I did something so stupid and hated myself over it. But you made me not hate myself. And you made me not be alone." Blaine breaks for a second and blinks like he's trying to collect his thoughts. "And that was the best year of my life."

Sam doesn't know what to say. He feels way too hopeful, and it scares him because he's used to nothing but disappointment. "You didn't deserve to hate yourself," he says, and he's quieter than he really means to be.

"Nobody ever did that for me before."

"Did what?"

"Made me feel like a good person." Blaine smiles a little. "And supported me like that. And just accepted me. For the first time ever, I didn't have to pretend about anything."

"Why would you ever pretend?" And Sam's honestly curious because there's nothing about Blaine that he can imagine needing to hide or change.

But obviously Blaine thinks there are a lot of things. "I always felt like people would judge me or make fun of me for just… Lots of things." He doesn't elaborate, but maybe it's not important. "But I never felt like that with you. You never judged me."

"Blaine-"

Blaine cuts him off, finally pushing himself away from the door and walking across the room to be a little closer. "You helped me in a lot of ways, and I'm glad I became this person. I like him better."

Sam can't help his own smile. He's still confused, but he's happy to hear Blaine compliment himself because it bothers him a lot when he hears him say bad things about himself. Whatever's happened over the past few months doesn't matter- Blaine's still an awesome person, and he still deserves to know that.

"Sam…" Blaine draws his lips in and sucks on them for a second. "I miss you more than I ever missed him."

Sam doesn't know what to say. He still feels like he can't say _anything, _like his mouth won't work even if he tries. Everything in his head is just swimming together, and he doesn't know if anything even makes sense. Literally the only thing he can say is, "I miss you, too," because it's so true that he honestly can't even begin to describe how much he misses having Blaine in his life.

There's a long second where nobody says anything, and they just stare at each other. Sam wants to kiss him, but he doesn't because he doesn't know if he's allowed to. He also doesn't know if he _should _because he doesn't really know what all of this means.

Finally, Blaine breaks the silence. He's still staring at Sam, and there's still that heaviness between them. "Is it just a phase, Sam?" He's super quiet now, but even though he sounds nervous, he sounds kind of determined, too. "This whole thing? If it is, that's fine. I just want to know before… It's fine, and we can be friends. I just-"

"It's not a phase." Sam's not sure of much of anything, but he does know that whatever he's been feeling for Blaine hasn't just gone away and _won't _just go away. He doesn't know what that means about himself or about his sexual identity or anything, but none of that is really important right now. Maybe putting labels on stuff is what makes the world such a stupid place to begin with.

Blaine looks sort of relieved, but obviously he's still a little worried. "It's okay if you're just confused. I just need to know before I start thinking about stuff that… I just need to know you're sure."

It would be a whole lot easier if Sam had all the answers because he's sure got a lot of questions. But he does know that he misses Blaine like crazy, and he just wants him back. If that's just as friends, then okay. But he'd really like to see if there could be something more because he's never felt this way before, and he thinks it's too important to just forget and ignore.

He could say all of that, but it doesn't feel necessary with Blaine. He's used to having to throw out big romantic gestures and heartfelt speeches to get people to like him, but he doesn't feel like he has to do any of that with Blaine. He knows him too well, and they don't have to do anything huge or impressive because they just _get _each other. They can just be honest, and that's enough.

So Sam skips the speech and just kisses him.

It's a lot like their first kiss. Sam just pushes himself away from the ladder and dips his head enough to just barely brush his lips against Blaine's. There's nothing dramatic or heart-stopping about it. It's just a kiss, and that's all it needs to be. Because they can both feel everything there, and he's almost sure that nothing has ever felt as right in his whole life as this does right now.

"Come back to New York with me." Blaine pulls back and blinks at him before he carefully takes Sam's hand and looks down at it. "I moved out. We can do New York the right way this time."

Sam doesn't really know what the 'right way' is, but he does know that nothing about the reality of New York lined up with his fantasy of New York. But maybe this time it'll be different. Maybe it'll be more like the fantasies he had of him and Blaine taking over the city and being awesome. It's worth a shot anyway.

So he nods and really likes the way it feels while Blaine holds his hand. He doesn't know what's going to happen or how it'll all unfold, but he has a lot more hope now than he did before. And he's got his best friend back, which is what he needs more than anything right now.

So maybe, hopefully, it'll all turn out pretty awesome.

…

…

…

A/N: Thanks to everyone for reading and especially to those who have reviewed! This one's done!


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